In the Dark of the Night
by OpheliaBlack
Summary: After the downfall of the Dark Lord, the remaining Death Eaters are held prisoner in the castle that they tried to destroy. What kind of mercy will they recieve in this new world? What lengths will the Ministry go to in preventing a third war? On Haitus for revamping, see last chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Yes, this is the story behind the random smut chapter I posted over the summer. I'm trying to get this done for NaNoWriMo 2011, but I've never written anything so long, especially in such a short space of time. I have not abandoned Haunted, I'm just having trouble deciding where to go next. Don't forget to leave a review, although you lovely readers already know that. Lyrics are from Hand of Sorrow by Within Temptation.**

**-Ophelia**

**Disclaimer: I'm not J.K. Rowling. Harry Potter is hers, I'm just a lowly fanfiction author who borrows her characters and settings for my own devious plots**

_So many dreams were broken and so much was sacrificed._

_Was it worth the ones we loved and had to leave behind?_

_So many years have passed, who are the noble and the wise?_

_Will all our sins be justified?_

It all started with one word, whispered in the darkest of nights. You thought no one could hear, thought you were alone. That tiny, quavering syllable, spoken as if by a frightened child, that changed everything. I often wonder how things would be different if your voice had fallen on deaf ears, as you had intended it to.

May 3, 1998. The day dawned bright and cheerful, the very weather celebrating our victory. Good had triumphed over evil, and there were simply not enough tears left to keep crying over the dead. The sun shone brighter than it had for months - no, years - and the ferocious wind had died down. We went down to the lake, just the three of us, as we always had done in times of peace. I watched the pair of boys, now grown into men, amble down to the lake with an ease that I have almost forgotten.

* * *

Ron threw himself down below our usual tree, stretching out to lounge in the shade. I walked over to sit beside him, but was stopped by Harry shaking his head urgently, glancing pointedly between Ron and the lake. Ron, as always, noticed nothing, having closed his eyes as though to take a nap. It would not be the first time he rested beneath this tree, but for once it would not be in an effort to avoid his ever-growing pile of homework.

"So, Hermione," he began lazily. "Don't you reckon three's a crowd? Doesn't someone here seem like they don't belong?" He opened his eyes to stare pointedly at Harry, but was met by a sudden deluge of lake water, courtesy of his best friend. It had been such a long time since I had laughed, and I didn't hold back now, watching a soaking and spluttering Ron chase Harry around the tree.

At long last, everything was as it should be. Harry and Ron were goofing off and laughing like brothers, while I kept an eye on their antics. I had a new book, the sun was shining, and the ominous threat of Lord Voldemort was at last removed. It felt like a breath of fresh air, like an enormous weight being removed.

In the distance, I suddenly saw a tall female figure making its way towards us. She looked strong and proud, her silhouette framed by the ruins of the familiar castle looming behind her. It gave the impression of great power, as though she had destroyed those ancient walls herself. I found myself growing afraid of the figure despite myself, but this war taught me to conceal such emotion. I force my face to turn blank, locking away any outward trace of weakness.

"Boys," I hissed, pointing at the approaching woman. They drew their wands solemnly, slipping automatically back into war mode. Laughter and childish happiness was stuffed back inside ourselves, so quickly and thoroughly that it might have not existed at all. We held our ground and our breaths as the figure drew closer.

It was Professor McGonagall.

The relief I felt was sudden and complete. The momentarily terrifying figure was my favorite teacher and the new Headmistress of Hogwarts, a woman who I know and trust. We lowered our wands as she came closer and beckoned towards me.

"Miss Granger, I need to speak with you. There is something you need to see." Harry and Ron stepped forward almost automatically; of course we will go together. "I'm afraid you two will have to wait for her, she must go alone. I cannot go either," she added sympathetically. The boys were visibly shocked, they never learned to master their expressions as I have.

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but I spoke over him. "Of course, professor. What's happened? Where do I need to go?" Professor McGonagall glanced at Harry and Ron to check for any outbursts, then responded,

"The Room of Requirement has been turned into a... prison... of sorts. It is a temporary measure until we decide what to do with the remaining captured Death Eaters. We-"

Ron, predictably, cut across her. "Decide what to do? Kill them. Or chuck them in Azkaban. They would do the same to us if they won. Hell, they lost and they still did that to our guys. They deserve the mercy that they've shown." Harry remained silent but nodded solemnly in agreement.

McGonagall's nostrils flared, a sure sign of danger. "Mr. Weasley, I do not want to hear such a speech again. We simply cannot pass judgment on these individuals until we hear their motives for fighting in the first place. Only then can we rebuild a society in which a war such as this can never break out again. Now, as it happens, when the Order went to interview one of the captives they refused to speak to anybody but Miss Granger." She was livid when she finished, but nowhere near as angry as Ron and Harry.

"No way!" they burst out together.

"Hermione, these people are nuts. Don't bother with them," Ron began.

"They think you're scum, remember? Why would they want to talk to you? It isn't a good idea, it really isn't," Harry continued. They continued to speak over each other, growing louder and more animated. I turned to Professor McGonagall, who watched them impassively.

"I'll go, Professor. I'll be fine." She nodded and I started across the grounds, ignoring the boys' indignant shouts after me. The castle was familiar from my long years of school, but the ruins were not. Rubble coated the floor and the paintings adorning the walls were empty and torn. Not even the ghosts showed their faces, and the halls were devoid of any signs of life. The once cheerful and welcoming corridors were now eerie and haunting, a shadow of the splendor that used to be here.

I shivered at the sight and made my way through the wreck of a building until I reached the Room of Requirement. The tapestry that usually marked it's location hung on the wall in tatters and I found it difficult to keep my eyes from it as I paced before the blank stretch of wall. The door materialized and I stood before it, uncertain if I really want to enter. The Death Eaters were the ones responsible for destroying Hogwarts, reducing this glorious castle to shambles. Do they deserve mercy? Who am I to come running at their call? The small, lone voice of reason in my head reminded me that McGonagall wanted me to come. If I couldn't trust her, I have almost no one.

I opened the door and stepped inside before I could stop myself. There was no light within, just blank stone walls like the ones in the dungeon. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom within, they settled on the one person I had dearly hoped never to see again.

Bellatrix Lestrange.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Instead of trying to explain why Bellatrix wasn't killed by Mrs. Weasley, I just won't have them fight at all. It didn't happen. Ok? There's some swearing here, so the sensitive should avert your eyes. Lyrics are from Resign to Surrender by Epica.**

**-Ophelia**

_Can't move an inch_

_But for the act to leave fingerprints._

_Freedom, farewell._

_Look in the lens._

_Answer the question._

_Will you behave as required?_

There was more light in the Forbidden Forest than there was in this room. After I had closed the door, the thin ray of radiance that had revealed your pale face vanished, leaving me in the pitch black room. It was not the darkness that unsettled me, this gloom that had an almost solid feel to it. I nearly thought that if I reached further into the room I would hit an unyielding barrier of inky blackness. That might be a good thing, having this shield of night between you and me. No, it was not the darkness that I was wary of. It was you, the psychotic murderer who I knew had no qualms about making me suffer horribly at her clawed hands. I shivered at the thought, at the memory of what had transpired at Malfoy Manor only a couple months ago.

I held no grudge against the Malfoys for that event; I could see their horror in their eyes as they searched for something that might distract you from me. It was no use, even if they had been able to do something. Like a rabid animal you were single-mindedly fixated on destroying me, tearing me apart. You almost succeeded. You came much closer than I would ever admit to anyone.

My famed Gryffindor bravery faltered and with a whispered "_Lumos_" I restored light to the room. At once you cried out as if in pain, attempting to shield your eyes from the sudden glare. You were unsuccessful, as I could now plainly see, because your arms were chained to the wall, held high above your head.

"Turn it off!" you demanded harshly. The sound of your angry voice set off the flashbacks again that threatened to overwhelm me, but the sight of that chain holding you in place at a safe distance away bolstered my confidence.

"Ask nicely. As you ought to have noticed, you are in no position to make demands," I admonished, enjoying the feeling of having power over you. If I told the Order that you deserve nothing better than a slow and painful death, they would agree and give it to you. I held your life in my hands and thought less of it than I would a Knut in my pocket. You were less than worthless; you were in insult to the human race in general. Your death wouldn't be murder so much as extermination. I want to eradicate you like a common pest and put you in your place.

Far from being humbled into politeness, you laughed that crazy laugh of yours that I hate so much. "Oh, but I am in such a position my little Mudblood. I asked for you and you came running like a trained hound. Sit, puppy. Turn off the lights. Good girl. Do you want a treat? Do you want me to scratch you behind the ears?" Another peal of laughter rang through the stone-walled room. I know that you aren't entirely joking about calling me an animal. Somewhere in your diseased mind lies the conviction that you are a superior being to me by birthright, and that my parents were sub-human merely for their lack of magic. To you, magic is what defines human beings, and I was an abomination for ending up with powers myself. You truly believe this, you were willing to fight and die for the cause that supports such madness. I felt my blood boil as I stepped towards you, raising my wand to deliver a curse that would wipe that disgusting smile off your face.

I stopped short after a moment, finally getting a good look at you. Your eyes were scrunched up against the light, but the rest of your face was almost entirely obscured by blood. One eye was swollen shut and a nasty shade of purple. You had clearly put up quite a fight against whoever restrained you, and from the bruises I could see blossoming across your skin it was clear that they had to beat you into submission. Your robes hung from your skeletal frame in tatters and what skin was visible were also black and blue. My eyes followed the chains on the wall to where they clapped around your wrists, to my horror they were met with torn flesh and clumps of congealed blood. You had thrashed against your bonds like a hooked fish and were rewarded with ripping your skin apart against the cruel metal manacles. The wounds had swollen around them, and your ankles suffered similar injuries from the chains that held them no more than two feet apart.

My gut roiled at the sight; not even someone like you deserve such treatment. With a flick of my wand the light dimmed, putting an end to your repeated chants of "Turn it off, turn it off..." Only now did I notice how hoarse your voice was, as if you had been screaming at the top of your lungs for hours. You slowly opened your eyes again and I could see that one of them was blackened and swollen, unable to open all the way. You hung limply from the wall with your toes barely skimming the floor, the very picture of defeat. My anger evaporated as I looked at you. It was nearly impossible to hate anyone degraded in such a way.

Pleased that the light was no longer blinding you, you smiled. Your lip was split and two teeth were missing. "Again I give an order and again the little Mudblood obeys. I could get used to this," you mused, speaking mostly to yourself. You fell silent for a moment, thinking, then spoke again. "Perhaps the Mudblood would be so kind as to lower me to the floor now?" Your entire weight was hanging from your mangled wrists. My eyes narrowed at being addressed in such a way, but I had already decided to release you before you even spoke. Another flick of the wand and the chains suddenly lengthened, dropping you unceremoniously to the stone floor.

You lay on the floor in a crumpled heap and for a moment I felt a flash of regret for hurting you further after you had suffered so much. I knew that if our positions were reversed you would have left me hanging, maybe even done worse. You had tortured me before, there was no telling what you might do if I were in a more vulnerable position like the one I found you in. I knew that the Order would be less than impressed with showing you any kindness, but I considered this as showing you human compassion. If it were anyone else I was dealing with I might have even hoped to have made myself an ally to them.

But it was you, incorrigible as always, and you regarded me haughtily instead of gratefully. Although I released you from the wall as you asked, you glared at me as though I had chained you in the first place. I took a careful step forward, offering my hand to help you up, but you snapped your teeth at it in a pathetic show of anger. "Don't touch me. I don't need your pity." You slowly sat up against the wall, wincing at each gentle movement with your chains clinking together. It seems like there are even more injuries than I could see, perhaps some broken bones. Once you had settled in you looked up at me, head tilted curiously.

Angered that you had rejected my help, I spoke more harshly than I had intended. "Well, Lestrange, you asked for me and here I am. What do you want? You have one chance to tell me before the Order comes in to kill you." You bared your rotten teeth in a snarl at the mention of your married name, but your eyes widened at the end of my declaration.

"It's Black now," you corrected. You seemed to say it automatically, it was clear that you had repeated this many times recently. "I was told that I would live if I talked to someone, someone from the winning side." You made a face as though the words physically pained you. "They promised to spare me. I asked for you, and you're here. Now you're saying that even if I listen to them, even if I behave, they're still going to fucking kill me? Why go through this fucking act then? Is that why they sent you, their precious little Mudblood of light and sunshine and rainbows? Are you here to kill me? Well, you want to know what I think? I think I should've fucking killed you when I had the fucking chance! It's you who should die! You and your filthy, lying friends!" You were screaming by the time you finished, although the threatening aura you usually had was greatly diminished by your injuries. You shook with rage, your good eye bright with its usual madness and maliciousness.

I stare at you, alarmed by your sudden anger. All I know about the situation is the brief explanation Professor McGonagall had given me, but she mentioned that the remaining Death Eaters would be given the punishments they deserve. There had been no doubt in my mind that you would die for your crimes, but it seems like a deal had been offered. Why would anyone give you another chance?

I don't know, but I need to find out. I turned from you and walked towards the door. You shouted after me, clanking your chains against the wall to make even more noise. "Hey! Didn't you hear me, Mudblood? Where are you going? What are you doing? You can't just leave me here!" But I could, and I did.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: There's no way I will get this story anywhere near 50,000 words by the end of the month, but let's see how much I can do. Lyrics are from Black Rose by Luca Turilli's Dreamquest.******

**-Ophelia**

_New dawn enlight my wrong thoughts,__  
__Make blind my weakness.__  
__Align the astral conscience__  
__To my own strength._

"Kingsley! Kingsley!" I burst through the doors of the Great Hall like a hurricane, subsequently knocking one of them off its newly repaired hinges. I paid it no mind; there were more important matters at stake. "I need... to talk... to you..." I puffed, completely out of breath from my frantic sprint down the seven floors from the Room of Requirement. I now saw that I had interrupted a meeting with the Order of the Phoenix, who were looking at me with some concern. Mr. Weasley, ever the gentleman, pulled out a chair and gestured towards it. I slumped into it gratefully, panting like I had just run a marathon.

Kingsley turned to me at once. "I take it you have spoken with Miss Black, then." You had clearly set him straight too; you were having none of that Lestrange nonsense. Kingsley's voice remained calm as ever, but people around the table suddenly looked stricken, horrified. "What did she have to say to you that was so important?"

I was hideously aware of everyone watching me intently, holding their breaths as they waited for my answer. Their open expressions said what their closed mouths did not. _What on earth could that wretched woman want our Hermione for? Hasn't she hurt her enough? _Outrage, disgust, and pure, unadulterated hatred burned in their eyes. They wanted revenge. They wanted to see you suffer.

I confess that I, too, wanted it. As the saying goes, be careful what you wish for. I witnessed your suffering and I couldn't bear it. I saw your beaten body dangling from those chains like so much damp laundry hung out to dry. That is, if one is in the habit of tearing the cuffs of their shirts before hanging them by the end of the sleeve. I withstood the abuse you gave me but couldn't stand to see you broken like that, not if there was anything I could do about it.

The Order would never forgive me for helping you, even just a little bit.

"May I speak with you alone, Kingsley?" I asked. There was a sudden silence in the room, an unnatural and uncomfortable pause as heads turned to stare at Kingsley. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed back his chair and stood up. I felt a rush of relief that the newly appointed Minister of Magic was willing to give his time for a private conversation with me, a teenage girl of no real importance. He had known me for years and I trusted him with my life, but I was unsure if he would agree to my conditions.

"Of course, Hermione. Right over here." He led the way out of the hall through a back door behind the high table, the one that Harry used after his name was pulled from the Goblet of Fire. I had never been in this room before, but it had a crackling fire in the hearth and comfortable chairs before it. We sat down and Kingsley looked at me carefully before he spoke again.

"She did not give you any trouble, I trust. We took extra care to make sure she is relatively weak and firmly restrained. Furthermore, there is a certain poison administered in the food she is given each morning. She receives the antidote every night. She is not aware of this, but it ensures that if she manages to escape our custody she will die within a couple of days. She is kept in the dark, which we found triggered memories of Azkaban that incapacitate her better than any chain. She poses next to no threat; else we would not have allowed her to talk with you."

He said all of this in such a calm fashion that I wanted to scream at him. Harry's frustration with Dumbledore a couple years ago suddenly made much more sense. I found myself having trouble keeping my voice from shaking with rage. "You had her beaten nearly to death. Have you seen her? She might die even without poisoning her. What if she refuses to eat? What if she can't eat because the pain is too great? You would kill her. You don't even care." Kingsley's face remained impassive.

"You know what she is guilty of, Hermione. You know what she has done."

I wanted to jump up and throw things, anything to make my point, but forced myself to remain seated. It was like S.P.E.W. all over again, humans treating other beings like scum and feeling perfectly justified in doing so. Well, no more. This ends right now. "I don't care! She's a human being and you have her chained up and... and tortured and you don't think there's a problem with that!"

"Of course there's a problem with that. It is exactly the kind of thing that she does to her victims," he said in that deep, soothing voice of his. Well, it wasn't calming me down now.

"So you want to descend to her level? That's how you want to show her who the bigger person is?" I felt like I was arguing with Harry and Ron about Malfoy, but this was so much bigger. Kingsley shook his head.

"It sounds needlessly cruel, Hermione, but this is the best solution, the only way to make our point. This is the world she is used to. She understands that physical pain means she did something wrong, so we hurt her and tell her that it is because she tortures other people. We punish her in the only way she knows to make her grasp that her actions are unacceptable. Her mind is like a child's; she needs us to help set her straight."

I gaped at him; his logic made even less sense than yours. "You want her to stop hurting people, so you hurt her to show her that hurting people is wrong," I said slowly, unsure if this twisted idea was what he actually meant. Surprisingly, Kingsley nodded in agreement. "Even if she fell for that, that would make you wrong too. You would lose all authority you might have had over her. Furthermore, she didn't seem too childish to me. Do you think she considers Azkaban to be a time-out, then?" My voice dripped with derision, but Kingsley looked thoughtful.

"Maybe she does. Perhaps you ought to ask her." He leaned towards me, finally getting to the reason he wanted to talk to me. "What did she want to say to you?"

Our conversation felt like it happened a year ago already. "She didn't really say anything. I thought she was sentenced to death, and I told her that. She... freaked out." In my mind's eye I could see your bloody face contorted with rage, shrieking at me from across the room. "She told me that she had been guaranteed to live if she talked to someone on our side, so she asked for me. She didn't say why she picked me, though..." I trailed off, thinking. Why would you want to talk to me, one of your more recent victims?

Kingsley cleared his throat, interrupting my reverie. "We did promise her life, but that was an attempt to make her cooperate." He sighed and fell quiet, considering me. After a moment he said, "She actually spoke to you, Hermione, which is much more than we have been able to get from her. Perhaps she has more to share." With that he stood up and left the room, the unspoken order hanging in the air.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I downloaded a couple of songs off the DHp2 soundtrack in an attempt to inspire myself but just made myself cry instead. Bad plan, but it got the chapter out. I had a hard time with this one, sorry for the wait. I made it longer as an apology. Lyrics are from Oculus Ex Inferni by Symphony X.**

**-Ophelia**

_Damn the betrayers_

_Through twilight, I fall_

_Headlong flaming - I curse you all_

_There's no turning back_

No sooner than the door swung shut behind me did I start dreading my next confrontation with you. You would no doubt demand to know what I had been told about your condition, and even in your weakened condition you would be a force to be feared. You were a master of interrogation, as you had eagerly shown me, and I had learned things that were best kept from you. I remembered the poison that secretly holds you prisoner and shuddered. Even now it would be coursing through your veins, ready to kill should you escape and skip the hidden antidote. Barbaric, but effective. The very principles that the Death Eaters were built upon.

The worst part if it all was the tiny piece of my brain that told me that Kingsley was right. You were, after all, a Death Eater, a proud and high-ranking follower of an organization that tortured its own members when they fail. If you could suffer through that and hold fast to your crazy beliefs, how could the Order possibly control you with words? If the dealer of pain is the holder of power in your world, then how else were they to teach you who's in charge?

The entire situation was disgusting; perhaps killing you would be the easiest solution. You had more than earned it, but something stopped me. It wasn't anything you said; you were as angry and insulting as always even as you argued for your life. It wasn't anything in your expression, no hidden remorse or even fear in your eyes. You wanted to live purely for the sake of living, not out of fear of death. But what would you have to live for? Your beloved master was dead and your cause had fallen, while your only living family certainly wasn't asking to see you. If you avoid death now it will only be to languish forever in Azkaban, a breathing corpse without a shred of happiness to cling to. You had already been sentenced to such an end and had only committed more crimes since then. Why do you want to live so badly?

A voice behind me called my name and I turned slowly on the spot, jerked from my thoughts as if from deep water. Harry and Ron approached me, their sheepish smiles telling me that they realized that they had interrupted my thinking.

"Who was it?" Harry asked, while at the same time Ron said,

"What happened?"

They grinned at each other before turning back to me expectantly. I sighed wearily. If I told them that it was you who asked for me, and what Kingsley had told me, they would be furious. They would keep me from talking to you again and maybe kill you too. I couldn't let that happen. You deserve to die, but nobody should have the power to decide who should live and who should die. You had taught me that much, at least. I should write your biography and sell it as a guidebook on how not to live. Maybe I'll give you a percent of my earnings; you had after all worked very hard to destroy your life.

"I can't tell you," I said, faking exasperation as best as I could. "I'm not allowed to say it. Kingsley told me not to." I let my shoulders slump and some of my hair cover my face. Seven long years have taught them not to bother me when I'm in a bad mood, and my act convinced them to back off. You would be safe until they talk to Kingsley and find out what he really said, but that could wait. It was nearly time for supper, and the day Ron willingly misses that will be the day he and Malfoy get married. "But…" I began hesitantly. "He also said that I need to go talk to them again. Soon." I nearly said 'talk to her', which would give up the game at once. The only other female Death Eater was Alecto Carrow, who I've never met.

Ron gaped at me, at a complete loss for words. He didn't need them; his face has always been a clear window into his head. _Talk to them again? What is he on about? Hasn't my Hermione suffered enough from them?_ Oh, Ron. So protective, even though I'm the better fighter. So possessive, even though I've been rejecting him for years. He thought that Lavender was clingy, I remember him comparing her to the Giant Squid and thinking all the while how nicely that applied to him as well. Harry looked between us and saw what I saw, a desperate boy throwing himself in the middle of my difficult situation.

Harry, bless him, cut Ron off before he found a way to articulate his rage. "If that's what Kingsley said then it must be important. We'll see you later." With that he dragged Ron from the corridor, leaving me to brace myself and head back to the Room of Requirement. The journey had never seemed so short and in no time I found myself facing the door again with dread settling in the pit of my stomach.

You jerked yourself to your feet when the door opened, ready to defend yourself until you saw that it was me. There was still light in the room despite what Kingsley said about the Order keeping them off, I took that as a sign that I was the last person to leave here. I found myself viewing this as something positive and realized that I truly did not want you hurt again. "Oh, just the Mudblood. I thought…" Your voice trailed off as you slumped back down the wall. You smiled that broken smile at me, evidently forgetting your earlier rage. Your eyes lit up with a sudden excitement. "So? What did they say?" You sat up expectantly, confident that I had good news for you. I did, but I decided not to reveal that just yet.

"I talked to Kingsley Shaklebolt." I took a seat on the floor across from you, just barely too far for you to reach in your chains. I felt like a cat in a Muggle cartoon taunting a chained and vicious dog, but I couldn't help myself. I could already imagine you lunging at me with fury, only to be stopped short with your fingers an inch from my neck. The thought brought a grim smile to my face, which you interpreted as something good for you. Your grin widened, blood dripping down your chin from your split lip being stretched. The sight was gruesome to say the least, but I forced myself to look you in the eye. _This is who you're saving, Hermione. If you protect her you will be accountable for all her actions. Do you really want to have anything to do with this monster? _ If I was being honest, the answer was no, but the only thing worse than being responsible for your life would be to be responsible for your death.

Your gory smile faltered as you waited for me to continue, but you seemed to be trying to keep your anger in check. You have learned, much to your dismay I don't doubt, that losing your infamous temper will result in your pain rather than that of the person making you angry. I watched you calmly, struggling to make my decision as you attempted to contain yourself. 'I am not ready to choose yet,' I realized. I was not ready to kill you, nor was I ready to release you in society, nor was I ready to send you back to Azkaban. Almost desperately I searched for a way to buy some time.

"He – he doesn't like you." You rolled your eyes derisively.

"No shit, girl. I noticed that when he was chaining me to the fucking wall. Did he say anything useful? Something that isn't very, very obvious? Something we don't already know?" You leaned forward and spoke slowly and clearly, as though to some idiot who doesn't understand what you're saying and needs to be talked down to. I felt my cheeks flush despite myself.

I swallowed, trying to hide my nervousness. I knew you could not hurt me here, but that did not mean you didn't want to. Even in your broken and wounded state malice rolled off you in waves; there was more cruelty in your pinky finger than there was in the entire Order. _So why do I keep thinking they're the enemy?_ I tried to speak again to distract myself. "You shouldn't swear so much. It isn't ladylike." Merlin, I sound like my mother.

Your head fell back as you laughed and I cringed at the sudden volume. You scooted closer to me along the ground, grinning. Your laugh was a terrible sound, insane and humorless. "Isn't ladylike? I was raised to be a nice proper lady, you know. My parents wanted me and my sisters to be meek little housewives for our rich Pureblood husbands and to spend our lives raising our spoiled Pureblood sons and pretty Pureblood daughters to carry on the Pureblood family traditions. I'm proud to say that all three of us failed on that count, even Cissy."

I thought of Narcissa, who had always struck me as the very model of a proper Pureblood wife. "What do you mean by that?" I ventured, but you were done reminiscing.

"Enough of that now," you said sharply. "Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do here. You're stalling. Tell me what Shacklebolt said at once." Even sitting chained in a pool of your own blood your haughtiness hadn't diminished a bit. You fixed me with a glare and waited for me to respond. Even without the Cruciatus Curse you were a master interrogator and I felt my resolve wavering. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was aware that we have been through this before, but you had had your full and formidable strength. I was terrified of you then, but that was nothing to how I felt now. Why on Earth was I afraid of you when you were so weak?

I was spared answering by the door opening and Professor McGonagall entering. Calm and collected as ever, she greeted us with a curt "Miss Granger. Miss Black." and left a tray of food on the ground beside you. She paused and raised a thin eyebrow at me and to my horror I realized just how close together we were. You were sitting at the very end of your chain, which was longer than I expected. You were more than close enough to grab me if you wanted; you could kiss me if you wanted. I jerked backwards out of your reach, looking anywhere but at your horrible smirk. McGonagall exited without another word and you turned your attention to the food.

It looked good enough, chicken pot pie with pumpkin juice and a piece of bread, but I suddenly remembered what Kingsley had said. Your food earlier was poisoned, this meal had the antidote in it. You saw me staring and dropped your fork suddenly. I looked up at you and saw the sudden panic in your wide eyes. "They put something in it, didn't they?" you whispered. "That's what they told you. You know. Tell me." The command was weaker than it should have been, filled with fear. You didn't want to die. You faced Azkaban with confidence that your master would save you, but you knew that you wouldn't be so lucky again.

"No, no. There's nothing wrong with this," I told you. I didn't mention that you had already eaten the poison, which would surely send you into a fit of rage. Despite my assurance you shoved the tray from you in disgust and I felt an unusual panic rise in me. If you didn't eat then you will die, simple as that. The time had come for me to make my decision at last, far earlier than I wanted. I needed more time. If you died because I revealed that your food had been tampered with then your blood would be on my hands just as much as if I had murdered you myself. I would not be responsible for that, I couldn't be.

You seemed to be considering something and I hoped desperately that you would pull the tray back. You looked starved, ravenous, but you stubbornly inched the tray towards me. "I don't believe you, Mudblood. If there's nothing in it then you should eat some. See? I'm sharing my food with you. How ladylike of me." That hideous laugh again. I glanced down at the pie and bread, sitting innocently on the tray. I knew that there was no poison here. Kingsley said there would just be antidote, harmless to me but lifesaving to you. Feeling your eyes on me, carefully watching my every move, I picked up a forkful of the pie and brought it to my mouth as casually as I could.

I chewed exaggeratedly and swallowed, watching you relax as I did so. You beamed at me, looking delighted, and yanked the tray away from me, nearly spilling the juice. The first bite didn't reach your bloody mouth before blackness swarmed in front of my vision and I passed out.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Sorry for the wait, I needed to figure out where to go from here that won't make me hit a dead end plot. Much love to my dear reviewers, especially those who read Haunted as well. Lyrics are from Sophia by The Crüxshadows.**

**-Ophelia**

_And through these doubts _

_And through your confusion _

_Know that you are chosen to this fight _

_Look to find a soul filled with compassion _

_Look to see a living source of light_

"Hermione? Hermione, are you all right?"

"Of course she's all right, Ron, don't be a prat. You think Madam Pomfrey can't take care of her?"

"Ron, Ginny, be quiet. You'll wake her with all this fighting."

"Sorry, mum."

"But mum…"

My head felt fuzzy and thoughts came slowly, as if they had to swim through syrup to reach each other and form a coherent message. My eyelids were impossibly heavy and my tongue felt like cotton in my dry mouth as I struggled to remember what had happened. After a few dizzy moments I gave up and tried to ask the Weasleys what had happened. I could imagine them huddled around my hospital bed, holding their breaths as they waited to make sure I was unhurt. Their kindness put a smile on my lips. Speech and movement were still beyond me, tired as I was, so I sat mutely and listened as Ron spoke excitedly.

"I think she's waking up! Hermione? Hermione, it's me, it's Ron. Are you ok?"

"For heaven's sake, Ron. It was a sleeping draught, not some kind of curse. Of course she's fine. Just rather tired, aren't you, dear?" I felt a soft hand that could only belong to Mrs. Weasley smooth back my hair and pat my hand soothingly. I began to relax despite myself. A sleeping potion, not poison. I had just been knocked out, nothing serious. Words were beyond me so far, I lay mute with my eyes closed and soon Ron had begun talking again.

"I know, mum. It's not the potion I'm worried about. You know who was supposed to be in that room at the same time; she could have been alone with her for hours before we found her. Who knows what that monster did to her before she left?" Wait, you left? How long have I been out? What happened? "She had hurt her before, you know."

Mrs. Weasley's voice was uncharacteristically exasperated when she responded. Ron had clearly been arguing for a long time, stuck on his one-track mind. "Yes, Ron, I do know. Of course I care about Hermione just as much as you, but you need to remember the condition that Lestrange was in when she left. She couldn't have done much to Hermione even if she tried, and Madam Pomfrey says she was completely unharmed."

Ginny spoke up. "That's true, mum, but didn't she take Hermione's wand? Actually, I guess she just took her own wand back. She might've healed herself before she left."

I found myself feeling hopeful despite myself. Mrs. Weasley soon dashed my fragile optimism, however. "I doubt it. She's very proficient in Dark Magic, as of course everyone knows, which means that she is not skilled in more practical magic. This includes cleaning and healing and other household stuff. Remember, Ginny dear, I told you this when I was teaching you how to mend your leg after you fell from your broom." I didn't need to see Ginny's face to know she was blushing; her brothers had mercilessly teased her about her broken leg long after her mother had healed it. More important than the mockery was the lesson Mrs. Weasley had given her and Hermione afterwards, though, when they asked her how she had healed it.

As Mrs. Weasley had explained, there was a certain tradeoff when learning Dark Magic. The more harmful your magic usually is, the harder it will be to cast helpful spells. The stronger your offense, the weaker your defense. Therefore, she had said, a witch or wizard can only specialize in one side or another, or be merely capable but not excellent at both. This makes the more powerful Death Eaters bad at healing or protective magic while very few people in the Order can produce any of the Unforgivable curses, for example. As a renowned master of torture there was no question that you were no more proficient a healer than a box of rocks.

Oh, Bellatrix. First you made me eat your spiked food (ok, you didn't know there was anything wrong with it either), then you took my wand (but it was your wand, after all), then you ran off (away from the people who tortured and imprisoned you, anyone would run from that). But how could you be so foolish as to try and escape unseen? Wounded as you undoubtedly were, I didn't expect you to even make it out of the crumbling castle.

Ron's worrying was somehow irritating rather than endearing. I knew that I should be pleased that he cared so much for me, but he should have known by now that I could take care of myself. Even worse, you were the source of his concern. The kneazle was out of the bag, now. He and Harry had wanted to know all day who my mystery Death Eater was and now that they knew it was you I would probably never have a moment alone with you again. It only struck me now that losing you was in fact a bad thing. Of course it had to play out this way, it is human nature not to miss things until they were gone, just ask King Lear.

You were a distraction, a blessed respite from the demands of the world that so urgently needed rebuilding. You had never asked about the war nor referred to it, as far as you are concerned it might not have ever happened. You did made a number of demands of me but they were simple things, easy enough to oblige. You were a woman scared for her life and trying desperately not to show it, a sentiment that I have shared all year. I didn't need to bother keeping secrets from you, aside from the poison… The poison! You never ate the antidote in the food!

With a sudden burst of energy at the thought I sat bolt upright, eyes flicking open, all weariness shed like an old skin.

"Where's Bellatrix? She's unwell, she's poisoned and never got the antidote, she'll die away from here, where is she?" I was babbling, panic rising swiftly within me. I had made the decision last night to save you and just like that the opportunity was gone. Mrs. Weasley looked at me in pity while Ron and Ginny stared blankly.

"Hermione, dear, perhaps you ought to lie back down now." Her hands gently but firmly pushed me back against the mound of pillows. "Are you feeling all right, then?"

"She's hurt, she's hurt, she's hurt, she needs to get better or she'll die…" I repeated the words like a mantra, flailing against Mrs. Weasley's restraining arms. My head still felt heavy and slow but my inexplicable concern for you rose like a tidal wave, unstoppable. Ron and Ginny looked alarmed.

"Why do you care, Hermione?" Ron asked. "She deserves to die. I hope she does." His words fell like bullets, blunt and uncaring. I reached an arm out to hit him but Mrs. Weasley pulled me back, not seeming to notice that I was aiming for her son.

"What has she done to you, Hermione? You're not usually like this," Mrs. Weasley asked, but I ignored her. She was holding me back. She didn't deserve my attention.

Ginny tried then. "Of course she'll die, Hermione. That was the whole point of poisoning her, to keep her here. Madam Pomfrey said that the poison cannot be in her system for more than twelve hours, so we have to heal her at night. They gave her a sleeping potion instead to keep her from running off when she's healed. The Order doesn't have enough people to babysit her all night. But now she's gone and ruined the plan before we even spent one night with it."

Good. I hope they never hurt you again. There was no doubt in my mind that if you were found they would punish you again, maybe even kill you this time. I pushed Mrs. Weasley away and yanked the covers from my body. "I need to find her," I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "I need to bring her back. Kingsley wanted me to talk to her, find out what she has to say." The magic words, Kingsley's orders, did the trick. Stunned, the three Weasleys watched me with wide eyes as I staggered out of the room.

I needed to find you, and quickly. We didn't get much time to talk, though, and I had no idea where you would head. Home, I thought, but where is your home? Do you still have a home? I didn't know you well enough to figure out where you went in time, but there was someone in Hogwarts who does.

I needed to find Andromeda Tonks.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Lyrics are from Dance of Fate by Epica. Don't forget to review, every one of them makes my day.**

**-Ophelia**

_Is there a choice to live another day?_

_It's hard to find a new direction in your fragile life_

_The precious time of your existence is now to come_

_Don't throw your life away by cheating time_

_Sugared placebos only fool your mind_

Panic and worry consumed me as I rushed into the Great Hall. I had only seen Andromeda a handful of times, conversing with her daughter or other members of the Order. She was often harassed for her relation to you, however, and I was not surprised to spot her sitting alone at the end of the Slytherin table. Passing students seemed to walk faster when they saw her, as though her grief was contagious. I approached cautiously, not entirely sure how she would react.

I cleared my throat. "Excuse me, Andromeda? Mrs. Tonks?" She looked up slowly, her eyes red and puffy from crying. They looked odd on her otherwise composed face, her aristocratic features startlingly similar to those of her sisters and cousin. A product of the inbreeding within the Black family, no doubt. She stared at me as though seeing through me, a defeated woman. "I- I need your help."

She closed her eyes as though in pain. Her words came as a whisper. "She escaped, didn't she? Bella. My Bella. My sister. No walls can hold her." She took a deep, shuddering breath and I felt another burst of energy. What was I doing waiting for this wretched woman to speak? I needed to find you, you were dying, you need me, I was wasting time. I bounced up and down impatiently and Andromeda looked knowingly at me. She seemed almost pitying.

"She's done something to you, hasn't she? Why would you care if she's gone? I know about the poison and I'm not looking for her." I started to speak but she cut me off. "Don't waste your time. She isn't worth saving."

"But she's DYING!" I screamed, unable to hold myself back anymore. Why didn't she understand? "Surely you know where she is, you're her sister," I implored. Andromeda laughed, a humorless and deranged sound, and in that moment she looked and sounded so much like you that nearby students fled.

"I am well aware of that, Hermione Granger. Had this happened just two days ago I would have gladly jumped up and helped you look. Even more, I would have found her within minutes. Of course I know where she is, she's in her old secret spot from when we were here. She used to go there to be by herself, to hide from the school. But I won't tell you where that is. I want her to die. I want her to pay for what she's done to me and my family." She covered her face in her hands to stifle a fresh sob. "She killed her. She killed my Dora, my baby girl. How could she, Hermione? How could my Bella hurt my baby? I loved them both. How could she?"

I wanted to reach out and do something to calm her, hug her, make her a cup of tea, anything. As soon as I moved to sit down I was reminded, as though someone shouted to me, that I needed to help you first. Nothing was more important. "Maybe, maybe she didn't mean to hit Tonks," I tried, inventing wildly. "Maybe she was aiming at someone else and missed. Maybe, maybe someone was trying to hurt her and she tried to stop them but they moved." Andromeda looked up again, staring while tears poured silently down her face. Even in her misery she was graceful. I continued, desperate and nonsensical. "We'll never know unless someone asks her. I need to find her. Please, tell me where she is."

"That is nonsense, Hermione, and you know it." She sighed. "I can't even tell you to talk to Cissy, she's already gone," she muttered to herself. I waited, knowing that every moment wasted was a moment that I couldn't spend helping you. Andromeda leaned closer, peering carefully at me. "You didn't answer my question. Why do you care?"

I stared at her, unable to answer. I didn't want to be the one to kill you, I had decided that already, but why was I panicking so much over you? No sooner than I had begun to contemplate this I suddenly imagined you chained to the wall, broken and bleeding. The urge to protect you overpowered me again. Andromeda shook her head. "She did something to make you do this. You should not care for her this much." I was filled with a sudden rage at her words. I've had enough of her. I began to storm off in fury, seeking you myself, when she called out to me.

"Hermione? How well do you know the Forbidden Forest? There is a small alcove where two rocks lean against each other to the left of the main trail, shortly after you go far enough in to lose sight of the castle. You should be able to reach it in about ten minutes. If she isn't there then she is already dead. Talk to her. Ask about Dora. Then let me know what happened." I blurted out a hurried thank you and rushed out, wishing I could Apparate on Hogwarts grounds just this once.

My previous experiences with the Forbidden Forest have not been pleasant ones, but I did not hesitate once I reached the end of the ancient wood. I plunged through the trees, searching desperately, knowing that I was being far too noisy for my own good. Every twig snapping or leaf rustling could be the one to signal the arrival of some savage creature, a brutal and bloody death under the canopy of the forest. But what if something found you when you were already wounded? I must find you, I must help you. I could not lose you, you were most precious.

With all my frantic flailing it took nearly twenty minutes to find the place Andromeda described. I stood, panting heavily, at the opening of the small shelter between the rocks and called your name. "Bellatrix? Are you there? I'm here to help you." An anxious moment passed, then another, before you emerged from the darkened refuge. You limped towards me, covered in dried blood but holding your wand high. Clumsy bandages encircled your thin waist, an attempt to bind the broken ribs. You had clearly tried and failed to heal yourself, but you were blessedly, mercifully alive.

"How did you find me, Mudblood? What are you doing here?" You lowered the wand slightly, seemingly deciding that I was not a threat. After all, I had no wand myself.

"I needed to find you. I needed to help you. You're dying…" I trailed off, embarrassed at the words that fell from my lips. I didn't have to think about them, it was the phrase I have been repeating to myself since I woke up. You laughed, somehow delighted.

"So, it worked then. How very strange." You looked at my confused face and laughed again. "When you fell asleep, dear Mudblood, I took my wand back and broke my chains, then left the room. There was a girl who saw me but I Stunned her. She had a love potion on her and I decided to have a bit of fun. I took the potion, put my hair in it, and gave it to you. But before I did that I added some crushed scarab beetle that I had in my pocket - don't look at me like that, everyone ought to keep potion ingredients with them for cases like these – which altered the potion just a bit. It changes the feelings of lust to an urge to protect, although there is still a certain force of attraction given to the drinker. I wanted to see if you would come looking for me and you did. I'm glad. You see, girl, I'm having trouble healing myself."

You handed the wand to me. "Well? The potion should make you want to help me. Get to it." I raised the wand, suddenly unsure. What if I messed up and hurt you even more? You saw my hesitation and misinterpreted it. "What's wrong, muddy one? Need a bit more persuasion?" Those words would have filled me with terror a mere couple of days ago, but I had a better idea right now.

"Yes, I do," I told you. "I'll heal you if you kiss me afterwards." Your eyes widened at my uncharacteristic boldness, but then you smirked.

"It was a love potion, after all, what did I expect? Very well, but only if you do a good job."

It took over half an hour to mend all of your injuries; heal the bruises and broken bones, knit the skin and flesh together, and wash the crusted blood away. I knew that each second is time wasted from giving you the antidote that you so desperately needed, but I was determined to do a good job while I could. At last I had finished and you stretched, enjoying the feeling of well-being. You smiled, revealing your rotten teeth with some missing. Your command to heal overpowered me again and I pointed your wand at your face. Your eyes widened in surprise. "What are you-" Your words are cut off by a yelp of pain as the empty spaces are suddenly filled with brand new teeth, white and straight. You felt them cautiously with your tongue, then smiled again. I groaned at the mismatched grin.

"Now your teeth are different colors. Hold still, let me fix that." You frowned.

"That's quite enough, Mudblood. I told you to heal me and you did, I don't care how it all looks. Why would it bother you that much anyway?" I shook my head.

"My parents are dentists. That's like Healers specifically for teeth," I added in response to your raised eyebrow. "I'm very, very nitpicky about teeth." You laughed and opened your mouth to reply, and I quickly shot a bleaching charm at you. You scrunched up your face in annoyance.

"There, you happy now?" you demanded. Yes, yes I was. You were healed at last, good as new. Your pearly teeth erased several years from your appearance. I could see that there will be no way to make you look like Azkaban never happened, but every small bit helped. The potion gave me a little nudge, reminding me of your promise.

"I've healed you, just as you said. Can- can I get that kiss now?" My words came out timid and unsure, my gaze sweeping downwards and away from you. My submissiveness surprised me, but just the small part of my brain not influenced by the potion. I cringed away from you while straining closer, itching to close the distance between us but scared to approach without permission.

You laughed yet again. "My, what an interesting potion indeed. Complete compliance from such a dominant spirit. Very well, girl, come here. You've done well enough, I suppose." You held out your arms and I crawled across the ground at once, curling up in your embrace. You pressed your lips briefly to my forehead before pulling away. "There. There's your kiss."

My forehead burned where you touched it and for a moment I was sated. But the potion demanded more contact, ever more, and anger flared in the pit of my stomach. "That isn't what I had in mind," I told you, pouting like a child. You laughed again and it echoed throughout the cave, a symphony of Bellatrixes cackling madly.

"I know it isn't, Mudblood. You wanted me to snog you like two students in a broom closet." You leaned back, examining me lazily. I flushed as I felt your gaze linger appreciatively on my breasts but hold still. You tilted your head, considering. "Pretty girl..." you murmured, more to yourself than me. You licked your lips almost unconsciously then looked back into my eyes. A smirk unfurled across your sunken cheeks. "I suppose I can indulge you this time, just once."

You leaned forward towards me and I closed my eyes expectantly. Your lips brushed lightly against mine and I trembled at even this soft touch. The smirk vanished as you pressed your mouth fully to mine and I tightened my arms around you. Your lips were soft and warm, but not nearly as much so as the tongue that slipped out of your mouth and slid across my lower lip, wordlessly asking permission.

Your thoughtfulness and softness surprised me as I opened my mouth to you, your tongue pushing past my lips to explore inside. I wove a hand into your hair as you slowly, gently caressed my tongue with yours. You seemed to be enjoying yourself as your mouth moves with mine. My head spun, I couldn't get enough of you. I pulled you even tighter against me and you moaned quietly into my mouth. You were so beautiful, so perfect, and my world spun only around you.

In that moment you were everything I could ever want. In the next, you were everything wrong with the world. You were disgusting, a sadistic murderer and a Death Eater. You were a shell of a woman almost thirty years older than me. You were utterly revolting, a creature who ought to be exterminated at once. And I allowed you to put your tongue in my mouth.

With a cry of horror and disgust I wrenched myself away from you, scrambling to my feet. You watched me, wide eyed, a thin strand of saliva glistening on your chin. Is it yours or mine? We stared at each other for a moment until you understood and burst into laughter.

"It looks like that potion has worn off, then."


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: I know about as much as you guys do about where this story will take us, which means that every plot twist throws me off as much as you. The kiss in the last chapter was a complete surprise and it took me a while to work it in. Apologies for the delay and love to reviewers, hopefully I can get some semblance of a plot in here. Lyrics are from Rule the World by Kamelot.**

**-Ophelia**

_Sometimes I tremble like a little child_

_That faces morning with a broken smile_

_Sometimes I crumble when the shades unfurl_

_Sometimes I feel that I could rule the world_

You shrieked with laughter as I wrenched away, vigorously wiping my mouth on my arm, scrubbing away your taint. "What's the matter, Mudblood? You didn't enjoy that?" You leaned forwards, slowly licking your lips as if to savor the taste, knowing how revolted I would be by the sight. Your mocking smile was more brilliant than I expected and I recalled how I had changed your teeth only a few minutes ago, how terribly important it was that you were flawless. A few minutes ago you were the most desirable creature on earth, and I had _kissed_ you, willingly and enthusiastically pressed my mouth and tongue to yours… I shuddered with disgust, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by you. "Well, excuse me for trying to accommodate your outrageous demands. I merely gave you what you had asked for," you sniffed haughtily.

"But you knew it was the potion talking!" I exclaimed, furious that you would dare blame such a disgusting encounter entirely on me. "You were the one that gave it to me in the first place! A love potion! What did you expect?" You shrugged, unconcerned. "Besides," I added, "since when do you just obey any command given to you by a Mudblood as low as me?" Your eyes narrowed, I had clearly struck a nerve.

"You better watch yourself…" you threatened, raising your wand menacingly. But inspiration had just struck me and I brushed off your warning as I would a mildly annoying fly. I felt a sudden need to anger you, as though your fury would wash away the kiss and leave us back to where we started.

"Of course, that's all you ever do. Obey people. You dedicated your entire life to obeying _Voldemort_," I drew out the name and watched with satisfaction as you swelled with fury. You seemed to be trying to hold yourself back, but I knew just the thing to push you over the edge. I continued in a whisper, watching your eyes burn with hatred. "But it wasn't enough for him, was it? No amount of loyalty, of dedication, of worship. You were never good enough for him, were you?" Your eyes widened and the wand lowered almost imperceptibly. You hadn't expected me to attack in such a manner, so far below the belt. But still you did not strike, and I smirked, wanting to watch you lose all control over yourself. I needed to force you to become the monster I had always known so that I could go back to hating you in peace, as if the kiss never happened.

I got right up in your face, somehow emboldened by your anger. "He never did and never will love you."

"CRUCIO!" Your rage washed over me like lava and all I felt was the burning, everything burning. A thousand white hot, stabbing knives. I could feel my throat screaming, feel my limbs thrashing across the ground, but these were pinpricks of sensation compared to the all-consuming flame. It was a feeling you had shown me before, on the floor of your sister's mansion while she and her family fretted in the corner. It was a feeling I knew and loathed, one that I permanently attach to you.

The curse lifted suddenly and you yanked me up by my hair, bringing my face to yours. I felt the familiar thrill of fear as I stared back at you, then relief at such a normal reaction. Despite our sudden proximity I was most confident that you are not about to kiss me again, exactly what I was aiming for . "Let me get something straight, Mudblood," you snarled, shaking with rage. "I know you don't understand how things were between us, you'll never understand." You threw me forcibly to the ground, where my face smashed against the rock. I felt my nose break and blood pour into my mouth and down my chin. I spat it out and you dodged the sticky mass, a look of disgust on your face as you beheld my inferior Muggle blood.

"So tell me." I have no idea where the words came from; I didn't really want to know about your depraved love for the Darkest wizard who ever lived. I really didn't, but I asked anyways. You stared at me, as taken aback as I am. To my horror, your infamous rage seemed to melt away as you slumped onto the ground, looking defeated. Gone is your usual haughty but wild manner, leaving me with a frightened girl in a woman's body. You shuffled along the ground to me, clearly seeking comforting reassurance. When it was clear that I would offer none, you curled into a tight ball of misery and lay your chin on your knees, eyeing me mournfully. It unnerved me to see a warrior as fierce and proud as yourself, one who had only a minute ago attacked me, reduced to such a state. It was even more disturbing than seeing you physically hurt because here the enemy was yourself.

"I loved him." The words came as a whimper, strained and pained. "I loved him and served him and he never gave the slightest fuck. He was the king and all of us who served him were the pawns. The Muggles and Mudbloods weren't even that good, they were the board. They were the ground that the pieces trod upon. For years I thought I was the queen but I was wrong. I was the bishop or something, handy but ultimately disposable." You covered your face in your hands as if your confession shamed you, which of course it probably did. I heard a smothered sob. "He was everything to me but I was nothing to him. I murdered and tortured for him, all of it for him. All right, it was fun, but I never would have gotten into it alone."

You seemed to be talking more to yourself to me and I decided to step outside and give you a moment to pull yourself together. I felt vaguely embarrassed for you, as though you were revealing a dirty secret rather than describing the love of your life. It struck me just how lonely, or how deranged, someone has to be to turn to Voldemort of all people for affection. As I stood to leave, however, your arm snapped out to wrap around my legs. "Please don't leave me," you begged desperately. Tears ran down your face and your eyes were pleading. You looked absolutely pathetic and despite the tremors still pulsing through my body from the Cruciatus curse and the blood sheeting from my broken nose, I sat back down beside you. You immediately curled up against me like a lost puppy, clinging to the nearest being that could provide shelter. I found myself wondering if this was what drew you to Voldemort in the first place; the man certainly seemed capable of watching after people. The problem was that while he had the power, he lacked the empathy to do so.

"I don't like to be alone," you told me. "Don't try to leave me again or I'll have to hurt you." Your sudden matter-of-fact air would annoy me in another situation but here I felt relieved at any display of self-confidence. I would rather snog you again than see you fall apart like this, it was incredibly disconcerting to see such a figure of power and terror sob like a frightened child. I abruptly remembered the reason I had come out here in such a rush in the first place.

"You're dying," I told you, my tone matching yours. "The Order of the Phoenix poisoned you and you need to get the antidote straight away." You shook your head.

"I want to die. What else do I have to live for? My master is dead. My cause is in ruins.  
My sisters probably hate me. I will be imprisoned for the rest of my life, if I'm lucky. I have nothing." The words sounded melodramatic, but there is no denying that they were completely true. What value could your life possibly have? Nevertheless, I felt the need to help you. I came out here to save you and damn if that's not what I'll do, even if you refused to save yourself.

"Now, that isn't true. Of course your sisters love you," I lied. You managed a derisive snort in your misery and shook your head.

I tried to keep my voice from growing harsh with impatience, but I must still convey that I didn't want you arguing with me. I needed to maintain this newfound authority without pushing you away. I wondered idly if this is how Harry felt talking to Kreacher. "Bellatrix." At the sound of your name you raised your head, staring at me through eyes that have already given up. The resemblance to Andromeda unnerves me, although her despair was felt by the rest of the Order as they rejoiced over your loss.

"Bellatrix, you need to pull yourself together now. We need to get back to the castle. You're not dying on my watch." I was surprised to find that I meant every word.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Lyrics are from Six Feet Under's Not Deep Enough by Angtoria. Reviews make me squee with joy.**

**-Ophelia**

_You'll twist and turn your spite_

_'Til you drain the sane_

_Cover up your tracks with lies_

_Deceit hides a smile_

_So tired of this false pretence_

_Can't even look me in the eye_

I knew that you didn't want to be taken back to the castle, but that didn't mean you should go completely limp on me. I tried to drag you to your feet, pushing you out of the shelter and onto the path in the forest. You didn't fight me, neither did you resist. Your apathy was almost as terrifying as your rage, but I had already tried angering you and now had a broken nose to thank for it. You were emaciated and very light, but you were much taller than me and hard to drag along. I struggled for another few minutes before coming to a stop.

"Come on, Bellatrix!" I shouted in frustration. "We need to get you to the castle."

You turned your head to look at me. "Your face is all bloody," you said in a blank voice. You had no interest in your surroundings and seemed unconcerned by the fact that you were the one who injured me in the first place. Rolling my eyes, I pulled out my wand. You fell to the ground and lay motionless, a six foot tall rag doll. With a few waves of the wand and muttered spells, my nose was healed and cleaned just as your wounds were several minutes ago. I looked back down at you.

"You coming?"

"No. I don't want to go back. I want to stay here and die."

I sighed. Without your master you were nothing, at least in your eyes. It was a disturbing thought. I hoped that I would never become so attached to anyone that my will to live would die with them. I crouched down beside you, struggling to find soothing words. "Do you really think this is what he would have wanted for you, Bellatrix?"

"Yes. I've failed him." Your voice remained perfectly flat and emotionless, as if you had taken Veritaserum. Or as if you had already died.

This threw me. "How have you done that? You fought as hard as you could until the end." I hoped that this might appeal to your insatiable pride, but you didn't seem to care.

"I didn't save him. I couldn't come to his aid this time." To my horror, you began to sob again, emotion flooding back at the mention of your dead master and overwhelming you. This time, I reached out to you and put an arm around you. You clung tightly to me, burying your face in my neck and shaking with misery. "I didn't save him. I didn't save him. I've failed him," you choked. "I'm the worst servant he's ever seen. I didn't save him. He's gone and he won't come back this time. I loved him. I still love him. I didn't save him."

The words spewed forth as I held you, rocking you soothingly back and forth. I tentatively stroked your wild hair but nothing would calm you. You were absolutely hysterical, your words stifled by your endless tears. "He needed me but I couldn't do anything. I wasn't there for him and I didn't save him. Now he's dead and I should be too. Leave me alone." You continued to mourn loudly as I wondered how I could get you to the castle. The more you wished for death the more I wanted to save you. Not to spite you, though, but to help you. I was filled with a sudden desire to make you see what there is to live for.

You didn't notice as I pulled out my wand and pointed it at you. "Stupefy." A flash of bright red light and you fell limp, your sobs suddenly ceasing. Silence filled the air, blessed silence. I heaved you to your feet and began to half-drag, half-carry you to the castle. There wasn't much time.

Professor McGonagall met me at the door leading to the Entrance Hall, arms crossed and lips pursed. Any other student seeing her like this would have attempted a quick escape but I was glad to see someone waiting for me. My arms burned from carrying you so far. "Andromeda Tonks told me where you had gone, Miss Granger. She wanted to know why you wanted to save her sister and I must confess that I am curious too." Her eyes swept me up and down, noting the bloodstains on my clothes, the twigs caught in my hair, and the way my arms trembled from carrying you. "What makes her worth all this trouble to protect her?" She looked me in the eyes and her face softened. "You can't save her, you know. She was sentenced to death following her escape attempt. She is just too much of a liability."

I nearly dropped you again at the news. I was glad that you were unconscious; if you had been awake you would have eagerly agreed to the sentence. I was certain, however, that deep down you still wanted to live. You had fought too hard for too long to consider your own life so easily tossed aside. I had to convince McGonagall to reconsider, but what words have ever swayed such a woman? Perhaps it wasn't so good that you couldn't speak after all; your tears would move anyone but Voldemort. A terrible irony, as he would be the only one who could stop them.

"Professor, please. Of course she escaped the castle, of course she did. You saw what they did to her."

McGonagall hesitated. "I have not seen it nor did I partake in it, but I have heard… things." She looked uneasy. "It is my understanding that it was undeservedly brutal, even for a witch such as this. However, she seems to be in perfect health now."

I blushed, hurrying to explain myself without actually giving any explanation at all. "I healed her. She's still poisoned, though. She needs help straight away, professor." Behind her glasses McGonagall's eyes widened, a sight as rarely seen as your crying. It seems I have stumbled upon many wonders today.

"Miss Granger, I would have thought you would bring the antidote with you when you went to find her. Come. We'll bring her to the hospital wing at once and then see what to do after." Seeing me hesitate, she added, "I assure you she will not be subjected to the same treatment she received before. I will not allow that for anyone."

I felt incredibly relieved. You were safe now, just as I had hoped. Professor McGonagall flicked her wand and you were lifted from my tired arms, floating forward on your own. Your hair and the hem of your torn dress trailed along the ground as you moved eerily ahead. McGonagall looked down at me. "I'll see her safely to the hospital wing, Miss Granger. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley have been searching the castle for you and are quite worried. Perhaps you ought to talk to them."

I nodded, glancing at you one more time. You were safe now, of that I was certain. I made my way through the winding halls of Hogwarts until I reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor. The familiar painting calmed me and I smiled at her without really knowing why. She looked back at me. "Nice to see you again. Password?" But of course, I did not know it. I sighed, frustrated, and made to turn back towards the Great Hall when a voice behind me called my name.

"Hermione! Blimey, it's nice to see you." It was Dean who had spoken; he and Seamus climbed from the portrait hole with their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders. I smiled, pleased to see my two housemates safe and happy. It had been so long since any of us had really felt secure in the castle. I hugged each of the boys, who seemed rather taken aback by my sudden friendliness – I was by no means the hugging type – but embraced me back.

"Have either of you seen Harry and Ron?" I asked. Seamus shook his head, smirking.

"Well excuse us, then. And here I thought you were so happy to see me and Dean, but you barely want to stop and say hello." Dean laughed. I did too; it is so easy to relax around these two. They were always easygoing, unlike Harry and Ron who always needed a mystery to solve or needed my help doing something. They were not unlike Fred and George in that manner. Fred. I felt the smile slide off my face at the thought of him, still and cold on the floor. He'll never pull another prank. He'll never laugh again, or make those around him laugh. The memory of my dead friend brought tears to my eyes, something Dean and Seamus didn't fail to notice.

"I know it's been hard, Hermione," Dean said seriously. He didn't need to ask what was wrong. The same thoughts have been plaguing us all for years. I wondered if we would ever be free of the taint that the war left on us.

"It's not fair," I whispered. "We should be just a bunch of kids. We should be worried about our grades, not our lives. It shouldn't have to be this way."

Seamus nodded. "We know, Hermione. But the war is over." Is it? "Things will get better from here."

I slowly wiped the tears from my eyes. "Thanks, guys. I need to find Harry and Ron, though. McGonagall said they were looking for me." I started down the corridor, leaving the boys behind me. They had been perfectly happy when I arrived and now I had left them upset, just as I did when you had run away and I found you in the Forbidden Forest. I sighed. Everyone I come in contact with seems worse off after I find them. I trail down the stairs dejectedly, every step heavier than the last. I was exhausted, and decided to go straight to bed after talking to Harry and Ron. Perhaps things will look brighter in the morning.

There was an angry babble of voices coming from the Great Hall when I came around the corner. My heart, already heavy, instantly sunk further in my chest. What could possibly be going on now? Ginny saw me first and motioned for me to join her. I stepped into the Hall, cautiously. "What's going on here?" I asked.

The room fell silent.

Everyone exchanged glances, carefully avoiding looking at me. My chest felt constricted with fear. Did they find out how much I had helped you? Were they about to kill you? They did, they were, I was certain of it. My breath came in short gasps, anticipating an attack. Would I ever allow myself to fully relax? Finally Kingsley turned to look at me. He was always the bearer of bad news, and this time he didn't disappoint.

"Hermione. There is much to be done to repair this country after what the Death Eaters," he pronounced the words with deepest contempt, "have done to it. One of those things is that you must be married, and quickly. Please sit down. We have a great deal to explain."

But I didn't want to sit down. All I wanted was to burn up, right there, under the scorching looks of everyone in the Great Hall. I didn't want to get married. All I wanted at that moment was, like you, to die. To fade from existence where nobody asks me to do anything for them again.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: That has been a long time, guys. Sorry. I've been spending much of my time reading and writing as part of potter-rp on Tumblr, where I play Hermione. There is some nice Bellamione smut there written by myself and Bellatrix's RPer, if you are interested. Lyrics are from Surrender to the Sea by Todesbonden.**

**- Ophelia**

_My desperation stalls me_

_Each move a fighting chance to see_

_Through veils of burning water_

_Dark seas envelop me_

I couldn't tell for sure why these words hit me as hard as they did. Ginny was at my elbow so quickly that it seemed she Apparated there, trying to pull me to a bench where I could sit without looking like my knees collapsed, as I thought they might. "I'm not sure of this either, Hermione, but Kingsley has a reason for this, I know he does. Just – just try and hear him out first. You're smart, you'll understand where he's coming from," she pled. She seemed terrified, as if she thought I would lash out at her. The thought surprised me; Ginny has always been a very close friend to me. We always shared her room in the Burrow; I had given her advice on how to get with Harry; she had laughed with me about Ron's many misadventures. I could never hurt Ginny, no more than I could harm Harry or Ron. The three of them were as family to me.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "Miss Granger, a decision has been made by the Ministry of Magic in an attempt to keep another war from breaking loose. Please understand that we did not make such a choice lightly, but we had no other option."

Mrs. Weasley cut across her angrily. "This is an outrage. You think you can just dictate who gets married to whom? You think this is the best way to avoid more fighting? Why not punish the ones responsible for causing such terror and death? Kill the Death Eaters, do not punish our Hermione."

Mr. Weasley nodded in agreement. "These people killed my son. Your idea of vengeance is having them marry a girl as close as my daughter? Who are we attacking here?" His words touched me, but my head pounded as more and more people began shouting. My head spun back and forth like an owl's in a desperate attempt to keep my eyes on the speaker, but there were too many. It grew louder and angrier in the room until I stood up.

"Hey! What are you talking about? Kingsley?" I stared at him, imploring. I had an idea of what must be happening, but wanted him spell it out. Surely he wasn't thinking what I was thinking. It was utter madness.

"Hermione," he began in his deep, soothing voice. I had grown to dread the very sound of it over the past day, after hearing him give me so much unpleasant news. "Tell me, what was the motive behind the Death Eaters in the first place?"

So he was going to make me figure it out myself, as if that would make it a more reasonable conclusion. If more than one person had the same idea, then it would probably be a more logical solution that anybody could see. I thought I knew where this was going but refused to play along. "Well, look at the name. They sought to conquer death." I tried to keep my tone as smooth and even as his, but my voice shook. I cursed it inwardly, but was somehow able to keep my expression blank.

He narrowed his eyes at me but continued without displaying any signs of anger. "Come on, Hermione. I know you don't like the idea but it is no surprise that they hoped to rid England of all Muggle-borns and enslave the Muggles. To them, there is no greater disgrace than being in any kind of relation with such people. People like you, people better than them but who they refuse to acknowledge as such." He paused, clearly hoping to cheer me with his praise. I shook my head frantically. It was clear what he wanted to say next, but they could not be true if he did not say them. They simply could not. He drew himself up straighter and continued. "It would humble them to marry those that they falsely consider less than themselves."

Chaos broke out across the room again. I couldn't begin to identify who said what as everyone present began shouting at once, different voices screaming the same opinions.

"You would let a bloody Death Eater marry our Hermione?"

"Are you mad? They would tear her apart! No offence, Hermione…"

"What? You call this a solution?"

"Hermione is one of our best friends! You would offer her up as a sacrifice?"

"How could you agree on this? Don't do it, Hermione! This is outrageous!"

Kingsley stood in the onslaught, calmly bearing the abuse hurled at him and the general Ministry of Magic for coming up with such a scheme. I was quiet as well, but his words had not really sunk in yet. He wanted me to marry a Death Eater. Best case scenario, they would realize that I, with my inferior Muggle blood, was no different from them. Worst case scenario, they would merely be ashamed to have me for a wife and not want to draw attention to themselves. The Ministry did not seem to consider or even care about the all too likely chance that they would simply torture me to death and be rid of their forced wife.

At last, I stood up again and silence fell over the room. I turned to Kingsley. "You people want to decide on my entire future. At least tell me that I get to choose which bigoted murderer I'm forced to spend my life with." My voice was as acidic as I could make it, abandoning keeping it flat and empty. Maybe I'll pick you, just to watch them squirm. Bellatrix and Hermione Black. It has a nice ring to it, but you would be a stain on my future that I would never be able to shake off. After your death – and I did not doubt after seeing you break down today that you would soon be dead – I would never escape whispers of being a widow to the infamous psychopath. How surprised they would be when you kill yourself instead of me, though.

Professor McGonagall spoke again, her voice full of contempt. "Of course you don't, Miss Granger. That would make sense, which is not the purpose behind this endeavor." Kingsley frowned at her but refused to let his tone match hers.

"There is only one Death Eater within twenty years of your age, Hermione. It seemed to be an obvious choice, and a logical one. _Logic_, Minerva. That is the driving force behind our plan. We will pass a law declaring that any unmarried Death Eater with the Dark Mark who is not incarcerated in Azkaban must wed a Muggle-born. Failure to comply will result in their imprisonment until they agree to marry. It is quite simple, really."

I closed my eyes, overcome with exhaustion. Are they serious? They wanted me to marry Draco Malfoy, the nasty little ferret? It was a terrible irony; I was considering his aunt only a minute ago. Marry him? Spend the rest of my life with a man I hated to make a political point? Furthermore, to punish a boy who had suffered greatly for trying to maintain his humanity in the midst of a war? There was no logic here, and certainly no justice.

I could see it clearly in my head, the two of us on our wedding day. I could see myself as if through another body, resplendent in a flowing white gown. Draco stood beside me, looking regal in his dress robes, which for some reason appeared colorless. There were flowers on every surface and my parents were sobbing in the front rows, out of joy or misery I could not tell. I saw myself turn to behold the man I was ordered to be bonded to. The more I looked at him the more he seemed to fade, until he vanished and was replaced with you, still wearing his odd robes. I stepped forward to say the vows and you collapsed, dead. I watched myself screaming as I beheld your corpse, to which I was now lawfully wed.

"No," I whispered, but nobody in the wedding party seemed to hear. Everyone was clapping; rejoicing in what they were sure was a political victory. "No." I opened my eyes again.

Everybody had gone, aside from Ginny, who seemed to be asleep. I looked around wildly, unsure of what had happened. "Gin," I hissed. Why was she asleep? Her eyes opened blearily as she peered at me.

"Oh, you're awake, 'Mione. We thought you fainted but Mum said you were just tired and fell asleep. I stayed with you." She yawned and stretched like a cat, then peered at me. "You still don't look well. You all right? Of course you aren't, nobody would be after news like that. Let's head up to the dormitories, ok?" She held out her hand, which I stared at as if it was a tree branch growing out of her arm. It was alive and whole, which seemed alien after such a dream.

I took a deep breath, an attempt to steady myself. It didn't work. I grasped her proffered arm and allowed her to pull me straight. "Yeah, Ginny. I just had an odd dream." I considered telling her about it, but soon decided against it. I forgot half of the dream by the time we reached the Fat Lady, but the image of your dead and lifeless eyes boring into me seemed imprinted on my brain. I shivered and climbed through behind Ginny.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: You dear readers seemed confused by the last chapter so I thought I might clear some things up. The sequence in which Hermione imagined her wedding was when she fell asleep; she began dreaming about halfway through it. She did not faint, she is not sick, she was just tired. Also, she is without a doubt engaged to Draco, not Bellatrix. Don't worry; this is still a Bellamione story and there will be femslash. Thank you for all your reviews, they are great. The part in italics is a flashback. Lyrics are from Sensorium by Epica.**

-Ophelia

_Our future has already been written by us alone_

_But we don't grasp the meaning_

_Of our programmed course of life._

_Our future has already been wasted by us alone_

_And we just let it happen and do not worry at all._

The door was open just a crack, barely enough for Madam Pomfrey to peer through. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but I simply cannot allow you in. Nobody is allowed in."

"Please, Madam Pomfrey. I have to see her. It's extremely important. Please?" She shook her head firmly and withdrew again, closing the door tightly behind her. I could hear the clicks of the locks as she magically sealed it. I slouched down to the floor with a groan, resigning myself to wait some more.

It was two days after I had dragged you back to the castle and the wretched woman still refused to let me see her. I had asked nicely, I begged, I got angry and yelled, I waited outside the door for hours; nothing would sway her. I was unable to explain to the impatient matron why it was so important that I see you, it just was. It gave me a purpose, and kept me from dwelling on what Harry and Ron told me in the Common Room.

_Harry sat with his head in his hands, exhausted. Ron sat in his favorite chair, stony-faced and staring into the dying fire. The flickering light cast unsettling shadows over his face that I found myself unable to look at for too long. How very different they seemed from the laughing pair at the lake not too long ago. They both glanced up at my approach. "Hermione..." Their voices were pitying._

I slouched down into the couch beside Harry. Ron quickly moved to sit next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "They can't do this. They think they can force you to get married? To Malfoy, no less. They can't do that. Its... its..." Words failed him.

Harry sighed and spoke wearily. "It's a stupid plan, but since when has the Ministry had any good ideas? I'm just surprised Kingsley would allow it, but he probably wasn't given much of a choice." He turned to me. "What're you going to do, 'Mione?" he mumbled. His eyelids drooped.

I shook my head. "I don't see a way out of this. I'm just glad they stuck me with Malfoy and not someone who would hurt me." Draco was a nasty kid, but he had shaped up during the war. He had suffered a great deal but soon learned that his ridiculous Pureblood ideals were not worth dying for, or worth killing others. Rumor had it that he seemed more mellow now, even pleasant from time to time. But could I ever be happy as his wife?

Harry nodded sleepily but Ron clenched his fist. "How can you say that? They're giving you away without any choice. They want you to be married first as an example. You're, and-I-don't-mean-this-personally-but-this-is-really-how-they-see-you, but you're just scum to them. Not only that, you're one of Harry's best friends. You marrying a Death Eater would be a huge insult, but d'you reckon it would really work? Wouldn't they just fight harder?"

He turned to look at me, his blue eyes bright but serious. "I don't want to lose you to him, Hermione. I want you to know that I'm not giving you up without a fight." His words were clearly meant to endear him to me, or at the very least cheer me up, but I felt even more despair now than before. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with Draco Malfoy, but being the wife of Ron Weasley seemed just as repugnant. He had told me many times before what he hoped for when he got older. A beautiful wife to love him who he could care for, a warm and loud home full of noisy kids to play Quidditch with, a delicious hot meal on the table three times a day. In short, he wanted his own childhood, but with me as the loving wife, me as the mother of countless redheaded children, and me as the personal chef. Being a housewife seemed to me a nauseating existence, and while Ron never specifically mentioned me in his fantasies it was clear from the dreamy looks he sent my way who he had in mind.

_As he had not yet formally asked me out, or even told me outright that he planned for us to be married someday, I have not yet had a chance to turn him down. I decided that right now was as good a chance as I was going to get. "Ronald," I said sharply. "What on earth are you talking about? How can you lose me when you've never had me?" He opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off, leaving him gaping like a fish out of water. "It's bad enough to have the Ministry treat me as an object to be traded, I don't need to hear it from you too."_

I had stormed off to the girl's dormitory afterwards and had not seen Harry or Ron since. My feet wandered on their own after I rose in the morning until I found myself here, begging to go talk to you. I had a vague sense that if I told you what was going on you would make it better. It was an oddly comforting thought that you might care about my predicament after all. You never took no for an answer and I was irrationally sure that you could and would help me.

It was a ridiculous notion, as you had no power to interfere with the Ministry of Magic in any way, nor would you probably want to considering the control they held over the rest of your life. If you displeased them they would send you to rot in Azkaban before you could finish your sentence, or simply kill you. Despite your despair and previous conviction that you wanted to die, I felt that deep down there was nothing you wanted more than to live and be free. A warrior such as yourself would never fight so hard for a life that they considered worthless.

Soft footsteps interrupted my musing and I whipped around, drawing my wand and aiming it at the approaching figure. "Going to curse me, Hermione?" The voice sounded vaguely amused, and lowering my arm I saw that it was Andromeda. "That's all right, I know it was just a reflex. At least you did lower your wand when you saw it was me, that's more than most others do." She seemed to have cheered up over the past few days since her daughter's death, but I knew that she had simply learned to hide her pain. It was the same thing that her entire family did; cover up any negative emotions as if they were weaknesses. It had been easy enough to see through Sirius' fake smile, but Narcissa was inscrutable.

"What are you doing here?" I asked curiously. She smirked knowingly.

"I think I'm doing the same thing as you, Miss Granger. I'm here to see my sister. It is long past time we spoke." She tilted her head, surveying me carefully. "You seem to have gotten over whatever it was that affected you last time I saw you, but there must be some reason why you are here. I have asked you before and I say it again, why do you care so much? Why can't you let Bella die?"

I blushed and turned away as if the question had been extremely personal. "She was the one who wanted to talk to me. I want to know what she had to say. Kingsley asked me to…"

"Don't hide behind his orders, we both know it's more important than that. He never asked you to look for her. He never asked you to bring her back to the castle. He never asked you to save her, both from the poison and herself." Her eyes narrowed. "Don't think I don't know about that. Minerva told me how you were dragging her back unconscious, as if she didn't want to go on her own. I know my sister. She wanted to die, didn't she?"

"Yes." My voice was small, as if a child were speaking. "She said she had nothing to live for without her master."

To my surprise and horror, Andromeda's eyes swam with tears. "She said that? She doesn't have nothing. She has me. She has Cissy. We still love her." She slid down the wall as if her legs could not support her, sitting beside me. "My sister is a horrible person who has done horrible things, but she is still the person who took care of me and Cissy when we were little. She protected us from our mother when we disappointed her. She taught us to hide our emotions and not let anyone see them. She got us out of trouble at school. She showed us that there was nothing to fear under our beds, or in our closets, or from thunderstorms. Mother told us we were weak and foolish girls but she cared for us and she loved us. Father loved us too, but he was always busy. We only had her and now she thinks we don't care anymore?"

I stared at her, frozen. I was never any good in these kinds of situations, so I knelt down and awkwardly patted her shaking shoulder. "She loves you, I'm sure she does." I ignored the fact that this was most likely no longer true after she married a Muggle-born, as that seemed to be the last thing Andromeda needed to hear right now. "She doesn't think that you two still care about her. She thinks you hate her for what she's done."

She raised her head, eyes burning with sudden rage but still streaming with tears. The rest of her expression remained oddly blank. "How could she think that? Family is forever. She has a lot of explaining to do, but until I talk to her I cannot hate her. Not yet." She spoke with such conviction that I half expected her to jump up and blast the door open, but that was not necessary. Madam Pomfrey opened the door and stuck her head out, looking at us with mild surprise, as if she forgot we were still here.

"Perfect. Miss Black is awake and asking for both of you."


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Another uninspired author means another long break between updates. Funnily enough, my muse for this chapter was the band Muse. Also, thank you very much to the fantastic Kriszti, who has helped me through such confusion throughout pretty much everything I've ever written. Lyrics are from Screenager by Muse.**

**-Ophelia**

_Who you were…__  
__Was so beautiful…__  
__Remember who... who you were…__  
__Hide from the mirror, the cracks and the memories__  
__Hide from your family, they won't know you now__  
__For all the holes in our souls host no thrills…_

Glancing uneasily at each other, Andromeda and I went over to the open door and peered in, suddenly silent and nervous. The Hospital Wing looked the same as always, but one bed had white curtains drawn around it, which were slightly pulled back. The top of your head and your eyes were visible around it; childishly peeking at us even as we watched you in the same fashion.

Your eyes swept over me before landing on your sister and widening. It was clear that you didn't expect us both at the same time, or for Andromeda to show up at all. Finally, you spoke in a hoarse voice. "Andy…" You struggled to sit up in bed, wrapped tightly in blankets like a cocoon. After a few moments of halfhearted thrashing you gave up, slumping limply and panting. Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

"Now, now, Miss Black. No need to overexert yourself. Sit back down. _Sit_!" With that, the matron put her hands on the shoulders of one of the most evil witches of all time and shoved her back down like a first year. Silencing you with a glare, she swept back to her office and closed the door behind her. After a moment the fury drained from your eyes; you were clearly exhausted and very weak. The sight made me feel safer as I crept closer to you until I reached the bedside, taking one of the visiting seats. You flash me a crooked smile, much to my surprise, before your eyes lock onto your sister again.

I turn around in my chair to see that Andromeda hasn't moved a muscle, just stood there staring at you in a mixture of pity, horror, despair and anger. The combination is alarming on such a delicate face; for a moment I was nothing short of terrified. She finally managed to get a hold of herself, speaking in a perfectly flat voice. "Bellatrix." Despite her breakdown in the hallway moments before, there was no trace of familial affection or even recognition in her tone.

She finally moved, crossing the room and standing at the end of your bed so that her shadow loomed over you even as she stood several feet away. You seemed to shrink a bit, noticing the anger that poured off of her in waves. I looked between you two, my head darting back and forth to watch whoever was going to speak first. You opened your mouth but backed down at once as your sister did the same.

"You look like shit, Bella. What the hell happened to you?" You blinked several times in response, confused, then scowled angrily.

"Azkaban happened. The Ministry of Magic happened. The Order of the Phoenix happened," she sneered in response. "What did you expect? And what does it matter how I look? I'm going to die soon anyways. Is that why you're here? To kill me? Get on with it, then." Your jaw was set and your eyes were hard, clearly unconcerned about your fate. Andromeda's eyes widened.

"Me, kill you?" Her voice was suddenly much softer, as if your words tore the faux malice away and revealed, not just another enemy, but your baby sister. "I could never. I never wanted us to be this way, Bella. Really."

You glared at her from where you lay on your pillows, menacing despite being tightly wrapped in blankets and plainly frail. "Really? Then why did you run off with _him_? Why would you abandon your family? You, me and Cissy were supposed to stick together, remember? You promised!" Your face twisted with rage, as did Andromeda's.

"Abandon my family?" She gave a terrible laugh, not unlike yours. It always threw me off to hear it from her. "AT LEAST I NEVER MURDERED MY FAMILY, BELLA! YOU KILLED SIRIUS! YOU KILLED NYMPHADORA! YOU FUCKING MURDERED MY DAUGHTER!" With that she burst into sobs, falling to her knees and clutching the metal frame of the bed. "My baby is dead now…"

You were visibly upset by this outburst, but your sister's need was undoubtedly greater. I slid off the chair, brushing away your hand as it grabbed for me, and knelt beside the sobbing witch. "Shh, it'll be ok," I lied, stroking her hair and speaking softly. Of course it wouldn't be all right, her estranged sister killed her only daughter in cold blood. Tonks will never come back, and things between them can never be the same. We all knew this, and for a moment the room was silent aside from the dreadful wail of the grieving mother.

"Andy, please…" you whispered, but you might as well have been talking to the wall for all the good it did. I looked back at you, watching your face contort with numerous conflicting emotions. Annoyance, regret, anger, sadness, and then finally a cold empty expression. You had reached your emotion limit and put on that uncaring mask, the Black family retreat. I had had enough of it.

I stood up and went back at you, confused by the sudden look of relief breaking through your façade. After a moment I understood; you thought that I would side with you, that my saving your life meant I had absolved you of your many heinous crimes. You thought that I would defend you to the hilt no matter what, even here facing your sister. You were so used to being right, to be the best, that for me to even consider your life worth saving I would automatically agree that you could do no wrong. Ridiculous. I bent down to whisper in your ear and you leaned in eagerly, most likely sure that I was about to tell you how best to shut Andromeda up. I pulled back the thick curtain of your hair. "Apologize to her. You killed her daughter." I pulled away, watching with a detached satisfaction as you jerked back in shock.

"What?" you hissed. Andromeda's head shot up, tear streaked.

"What did you say?" she demanded. I quickly sat back down, not wanting to take one side over the other despite knowing that Andromeda was fully in the right.

You rolled your eyes, a very bad start. "She wants me to apologize to you. About your girl."

Your sister's eyes flashed as she seemed to swell with fury, standing up again. Her voice shook as she spoke, but she kept the volume low this time. "Well, don't you think that might just sound like a good idea? Sorry, Andy, for slaughtering your only daughter. I didn't think that would upset you so much, really. And how about this one? Sorry, Andy, for not visiting you once in twenty years. I didn't think you cared that much. Sorry, Andy, for kicking you out of the family. I don't think we can be related if you marry a man for love. Sorry, Andy, for killing our cousin. I forgot how close you two were, I promise. What good does sorry do, Bella?"

Your eyes narrowed, but you didn't yell either. "It doesn't do any good at all, Andy. That's why I didn't say it."

"YOU DIDN'T SAY IT BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T MEAN IT! YOU DON'T CARE AT ALL, DO YOU?" I winced as her words rang out, glancing around to make sure nobody was coming to see what all the noise was. Nobody did, and I felt as if I was abandoned to sit here in miserable silence and watch this family tear itself to shreds. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had come to a close with only three real members left, and here were the remains of two of them, screaming and fighting. How very noble indeed.

Once again, anger melted into sorrow before my bewildered eyes. "I never meant for it to be this way, Andy. You knew what would happen if you married him. What would happen to you, to us, to the family, and yes, to any children you might have. You knew what it meant. You knew you would be cast out, yourself and your child marked as a blood traitor. You knew that Cissy and I wouldn't be able to see you ever again, and you still left. You walked out that door without looking back."

"Of course I never looked back," she snarled. "What was there to look back at? Mother didn't give a damn what happened to me, we were no children of hers no matter who we married. Father didn't have time for us, never had a chance to know us."

"You still had me, and Cissy. We were there for you, we were always there for you." Self pity turned back into rage. You were still too weak to scream, thank Merlin. "But you never trusted us, did you? You never told us you were with a Mudblood, never told us you were running away." Misery again. "You never said goodbye."

Andromeda wasn't falling for it. "So you think that makes it all right to kill my child?"

"YOU left the family! YOU walked out! She was no niece of mine, just as you are no sister of mine. I gave you everything I could, Andy. I owe you nothing," you spat.

"Oh, I'm not your sister anymore? Then why did you ask for me? Why did you want me to see you?"

"Why did you come here? Why were you waiting outside the door?"

"That isn't an answer, Bella. I'm here because you wanted to die and I wanted to know why. I need to hear it for myself."

"I asked for you because I know you told her where to find me." You jerked a thumb at me without breaking eye contact with Andromeda. "You knew what happened to your girl. Why let her help me?"

"Why help someone help you? Let me think, because that's what families do! They help each other even when they're angry! AND THEY CERTAINLY DON'T KILL EACH OTHER!"

"Your daughter was trying to kill me! She was on the opposite side of a war and we were fighting! Would you be yelling at her if she had won?"

"Of course I would! Dora would never…"

Watching these two flip between emotions was like trying to tune a broken radio. It skips between stations and you can catch snatches of each, but it never settles on just one and you get a headache listening to it. I, for one, had heard enough. "Will you just stop it?" Both sisters turned at stared at me, having forgotten that I was present.

"What are you talking about, Hermione?" Andromeda demanded. "She's wrong and she knows it!" She turned to glare at you.

At the same time, you shrieked, "What? Don't you dare speak to us like that, filthy Mudblood!"

"Don't call her that!"

"I'll do what I want!"

I stood up to leave, unwilling to stay and watch this family fall apart, and certainly unwilling to take an active part in the discussion. "Right. Well, I'm going now. You two can tell me when you're done."

You reached over and grabbed my wrist, closing your fingers tightly so that your nails dug into me. You did not speak, but stared at me in a silent threat. Blood dripped down my arm as you let go, lying back down. "I don't think so," Andromeda added. "We need a third party to decide who here is in the right." She glared at her sister, who stared at her in kind. I had long ago decided who was right and who was wrong, but it seemed that I would have no option but to stay and hear them both out.

I sighed. This would be a very long and loud conversation, and it looked like I would have to see it through. I sat back down.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Once again, many thanks to the incredible Kriszti for helping me come up with some semblance of a plot and spending a very, very long time overanalyzing the Black sisters with me. And I mean a **_**really**_** long time. Lyrics from On the Rise from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog.**

**-Ophelia**

_Any dolt with half a brain_

_Can see that humankind has gone insane_

_To the point where I don't know if I'll upset the status quo_

_If I throw poison in the water main._

_Listen close to everybody's heart_

_And hear that breaking sound._

_Hopes and dreams are shattering apart_

_And crashing to the ground._

One hour passed, then the next, the minutes blending together without notice. No progress was made or lost, just two sisters screaming and sobbing for what felt like eternity. I had heard enough in the first five minutes to last the next hundred or so, they talked in circles without really deciding a thing nor introducing any new points, as anyone but they could have predicted.

Bella killed Tonks. Andy walked out on the family to get married. Bella killed Sirius. Andy wasn't there for her sisters when they needed to be together. Bella joined the Death Eaters to torture and kill innocent people and loved it. Andy decided that she would be happier with Ted Tonks than any pureblood man. Bella did everything wrong. Andy did everything right. Why does this call for discussion?

I know the answer, of course. Anybody who knows anything about you knows it. You don't care about the lives you take any more than you would the dirt on the bottom of your boots. One curse, a flash of green light, and they're wiped away from this Earth for good, never to bother you again. As quickly as they come into your life they leave, and that's all right by you. Well, not by me, and certainly not by your sister either.

"BELLATRIX! YOU AREN'T LISTENING TO ME AT ALL, ARE YOU?" You and I both cringe as Andromeda shouts again, bearing down on you, red-faced. Ah, yes, I had nearly forgotten. Not only are your arguments nonsensical and pointless, but you seem to have a nasty habit of spacing out during conversations, simply going blank and turning inward, away from the realities of life and your screaming sister.

You turn to face her, unfazed by her screaming but looking a little confused. "Sorry, Andy? I didn't catch that," you tell her seriously, looking as if you had just resurfaced from beneath deep water. Your disconnection with the world is somewhat alarming, as if you don't belong here. Your eyes flit restlessly around the room as if seeking an escape, almost desperate. Finding none you look down again to stare at your knees, which are bent under the blankets in front of you with your arms wrapped around them. When not staring down your sister and furiously defending yourself, you curl into the fetal position and hum quietly to yourself, as a frightened child might do to calm itself. You are the child, seeing your sister as the big and scary enemy. Watching such a notorious murderer act in such a way unsettles me, to say the least, far more than your tears did that day in the forest. Everyone cries at some point, very few people retreat into their head when faced with a situation they don't like and constantly flip between which world they pay attention to.

Andromeda's face turns red with fury, another highly disturbing sight. Whenever she gets angry she looks just like you, and I can't help but cringe away, remembering that night in Malfoy Manor. I still get nightmares about that time, about how you screamed at me and tortured me and how, not once but many times, I thought about giving up. I've never told a soul about that, about the dreams and the quitting and the shame, the ever burning shame. Yet here I am, sitting at your side as your little sister screams the terrible truth at you. I watched you flinch as the word passes through her lips; the word that everyone knows is true but never dared to speak before you; the word that you have been hiding from for years.

_Monster._ Inhuman, cruel, bestial. The last thing you or anyone else would ever want to become, but it was the perfect word to describe you now.

"You're a complete monster, Bellatrix. If you still think Muggles are such scum, perhaps you ought to take a closer look at yourself. Until you do, I have nothing more to say to you." With that, she swept out of the room and out of your life, for the second time. You had clearly chosen this moment to pay attention to her, as your jaw hung open and your eyes were wide with horror and pain. For a long moment after the door banged shut the infirmary was as silent as a crypt, until you curled up once more and started humming again.

For someone who made a name for themselves as a master of torture you handle pain extremely poorly. Since the end of the war I've seen you screaming and yelling after being beaten by the Order, sobbing and suicidal after talking about your unrequited love for your dead master, hiding behind a cold and uncaring expression after confronting your sister, and now whimpering and shaking like a wounded animal. You were always the very definition of power, of intimidation, of evil. Now you look broken, as if the trauma you had inflicted over the past few decades has caught up to you at last and destroyed you. I had always known you were insane, but it never really sunk in until this moment. It was just a word, bland and meaningless, containing all of the emotional attachment of saying that you were tall with black hair. This moment, however, redefined the term, made it real and terrifying.

I knew that I shouldn't touch you, that you would probably take it badly and that you deserved no consolation anyways. However, my hand betrayed my common sense and reached out to take yours, grasping your thin and bony fingers between mine. You fell silent, raising your head to look at me. Your mask was back on and your expression was inscrutable, aside from your eyes. I rarely looked into your eyes, having feared the chaos and anger that swirled within since I glimpsed it at the Malfoy's. You were nothing less than terrorizing then, but now you were pathetic, someone to be comforted rather than feared. I looked into your eyes and saw just how badly you were hurt by Andromeda's comment, how deeply it had affected you. Somewhere in the back of your twisted mind you had always carried a strong conviction that what you were doing was right, and that it would be a matter of time until your sisters agreed.

At long last, the truth had sunk in and you were forced to see yourself as you really were, not the glorified and justified warrior you always wanted to be. Your hand clutched at mine as if for support as your eyes locked onto me. We sat motionless for a long moment, staring at each other, until I turned my head slightly. Your despair was hard to bear, especially on top of what I already had in mind. You finally spoke. "Aren't you curious about why I asked you to come here?" You sounded desperate to change the subject to me, and to assert some sense of authority by implying that I came at your call. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at you, still feeling a bizarre sense of sorrow towards you.

"Yeah, I guess so." Your sharp nails were digging into my skin now, but I couldn't move me hand even if I wanted to.

"Well, rumor has it that you're set to marry my dear nephew." You smiled knowingly, or at least attempted to. It looked more like a pained grimace, which I think matches the topic much better. "Does the Ministry really expect this to eliminate all blood-status rivalry?" I actually did roll my eyes at that one; the use of the word rivalry implies that Muggle-borns wanted to attack the purebloods in turn, rather than defend themselves from their outrageous and aggressive accusations.

"How did you hear about that?" I demanded, annoyed. I was under the impression that the Ministry's plans were to be top-secret. You didn't reply, so I continued. "It's a stupid idea, of course, there's no way it could ever work. Marry off the Death Eaters to Muggle-borns in an attempt to humble them, or humiliate them? The only thing that will do is get them angry, angry enough to cause another uprising, and this time more people will follow. Who would you rather fight for, a government that thinks it can arrange marriages, or the oppressed few being forced into them?" Now my nails are the ones piercing you, and you quickly shake me off.

"Don't be so dramatic, girl. With the Dark Lord gone," your voice shakes a little as you say this, "the army is dissolved. There are now many ex-Death Eaters, but the organization itself is no more. In any case, I doubt there will be any kind of resistance. Anyone being married off is being spared death or worse, and they know it. They will not create trouble, not after escaping justice so narrowly."

"So you think they won't kill off their new wives?" There were only two known female Death Eaters, and the Carrows had been sent to Azkaban. Only men remained, which meant that only unlucky Muggle-born girls would be needed for this scheme.

You hesitated before answering. "Draco would never harm you, nor anybody else. He's too damn weak, just like that foolish father of his," you muttered under your breath. I ignored the last bit.

"You're avoiding the question. I know Draco won't be much of a problem, but if things go well with us the Ministry will see it as a go-ahead signal. If things go poorly, they will blame and punish him. I need to stop this _now_."

"All right, the others would kill the filthy girls, no question. They might do it quietly, they might not, but expect them to be dead within months after the accursed weddings. The Ministry would be quite foolish if they don't see this coming."

This was precisely what I thought would happen, but it was still disparaging to hear it coming from someone else. "So what do you suggest we do?" My shoulders slumped with defeat, but you seemed to fill with vigor at the prospect of a new battle to face.

"Well, that depends on what I get out of it. After all, we still don't know what the Ministry plans to do with me…" Your tone suddenly grows much more commanding, just like the Bellatrix I knew before the end of the war broke you down. "I don't want to be thrown into Azkaban again. I don't want to be killed by the likes of _them_." You spat the word out with a disgusted snarl on your face, but I noted that you did not say you didn't want to die at all. "And I certainly don't want to be forced into another marriage, no more than anyone would even want to marry me now, I'm sure. Keep them from doing any of these things to me and I'll do everything I can to help you."

I stared at you blankly. This was quite a hefty list, and while I held a good deal of power it was unlikely to be enough to meet all of your demands. "How do you expect me to do all of that?"

"How do you expect me to help you?" you shot back. Your arms were crossed in defiance; your breakdown just minutes ago might never have happened. "I'm stuck in this bloody bed until Pomfrey decides I'm well enough to leave, and then I'll probably be chained up again. If you don't help me I can't do anything for you at all." You were right and we both knew it, but my words still stuck in my mouth as I struggled to speak them.

"Fine. I'll help you. I'll do my best to keep you safe if you do your best to stop this law."

You shook your head. "No, no, no. this law is well beyond my control, all I can do is help you. Besides, why should I care about any other girls unless they promise to defend me too? The Dark Lord protected me and helped me grow strong, so I fought for him. If you agree to my terms then I could be your best ally."

I groaned, but knew this would be the best deal I could get. Depending on what her idea was, I might be able to stop the Ministry without her direct help. Finally I nodded in agreement.

You leaned forward so that your face was an inch from mine. "Call it off with Draco and marry me instead."


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: I work at a grocery store and I wrote this on the back of a handful of receipts last night because I was bored during my shift. Classy author is classy. Lyrics are from Marry Me by Emilie Autumn.**

**-Ophelia**

_But when I was in his bed, and my father had sold me_

_I knew I hadn't any choice, hushed my voice, did what any girl would do and_

_When I'm beheaded at least I was wedded._

_And when I am buried at least I was married._

_I'll hide my behavior with wine as my savior._

For a long moment I stare at you, utterly speechless. "You… what?" Surely I had misunderstood you, or even misheard you altogether. Surely this was not as it appeared, not the infamous Bellatrix Black asking me, a Muggle-born girl, to marry her. No, there had to be something else going on, an ulterior motive.

"Didn't you hear me, mudblood?" you sneered, annoyed that I did not immediately grasp the brilliance of your plan. "I think you should marry me instead of Draco. It will be the perfect way to spite the Ministry and keep us both safe. Nobody will ever see it coming." You leaned back against your stack of pillows, unbearably haughty.

That much was true, at least; nobody _would_ see it coming. "I heard you just fine, but…" I hesitated, unsure how to continue without triggering one of your awful rages. Or worse, another episode of suicidal despair. You raised your eyebrows, smirking at my indecision. Anger and frustration quickly overcame me and I threw caution to the wind. "I can think of many things that would be far worse than spending the rest of my life with Draco Malfoy, Bellatrix. Spending it with you is one of them. Why on earth would this be better?"

"Well, it would be better for Draco and much, much better for me. Think about it, girl. Draco doesn't want to be married and now he doesn't have to be. It would be more shocking and humiliating for scum such as yourself to marry someone like me rather than him, so the Ministry will be happy. And, as the wife of one of Harry Potter's closest companions, I cannot be arrested or killed, or forced to marry someone else. Don't you see? This way, everyone wins."

"Everyone but me, you mean!" I stood, completely fed up with the way you regarded me as a piece of filth who could be ordered around by the likes of you. What makes everyone think that I am just a pawn, an emotionless piece in their games to use and destroy as they will, to blindly follow commands no matter what happened along the way? I was absolutely lived. I turned on my heel and strode to the door, feeling your scornful gaze burning into my back with every step. My hand was on the doorknob when you called out.

"Mudblood or not, you know Cissy and Lucius would expect you to produce an heir if you marry their son." I froze in place as the words hit me. In the heavy silence that followed I could swear I heard your lips curl into a smug smile. This was your trump card and you knew it. You were psychotic, evil, sadistic, childish, and almost thirty years older than me, but you were a woman like me and by Merlin not even the Ministry of Magic would be able to make me have a child with you.

I walked back over to my vacated chair and slumped into it, trying to avoid looking at you. A long moment passed before you spoke again, your voice somewhat kinder than before. This surprised me, and I looked up at you. Your face was unreadable, but I found the gentler tone comforting, even though it was still much harsher than most people. "That's the way Pureblood marriages go, girl. Your parents match you with someone who you may or may not know, based purely on the age and wealth of their family. It matters not if you like each other or find the other attractive, although of course if you are considered good-looking you will have many more suitors. My parents had no less than a dozen men chosen for me, all attractive and from respectable families, but I was a proud fool at your age." You suddenly grew agitated. "I turned down the lot of them; I thought I had a choice. I thought that if I said no to all of them then they would give up and I would be free. But it doesn't work like that."

You had curled up into a ball again, your chin on your knees as you watched me carefully, pathetically. I had a number of things I wanted to say to this but decided it would be best to wait for you to finish. This was the most I had ever heard you speak without screaming or crying, which was quite refreshing no matter how disturbing your words were.

"I spent a few years after school unchained and happy, turning down suitors and laughing at the world. I wanted to be so much more than a proper Pureblood housewife, churning out sons for rich and old families and gossiping at parties. I wanted to make a name for myself, independent of a husband. I watched my classmates wed and thought myself above them, the clever eldest daughter of House Black. _Daughter_, that was the key part I had missed. It was a mother's duty to marry off her daughters to prominent families and get them out of the house quickly, an ancient tradition. My mother was horribly offended to have three girls and not a single son, while the rest of the family had only boys. Father didn't mind terribly but Mother was livid, she was horrified, she was disgusted. We were the biggest failures of her life when we should have been her pride and joy. Our many accomplishments meant nothing to her because we were female, and nothing we did would warm us to her. She hated us all from the moment we were born, growing more and more resentful with time. When she had me she was disappointed but hopeful that there would be sons to wash away her shame. But by the time Cissy came along, well…" You let out a humorless laugh, your eyes blazing with fury. "You don't name your baby Narcissa because you love her." You took a deep and steadying breath before continuing.

"Sirius and Regulus never married, and that was just fine, they were men and society expected much less of them as far as that went. But when Andy ran away Mother needed to act quickly, she needed to prove that not all of her children would betray the family. She needed to keep Cissy and I from seeing how happy our sister was and joining her. Within a week she had dug up matches for us both, with a dual wedding date set in two more weeks. There was no choice, there was no time. I had played the game and I had lost, and now I was being given as some kind of prize to Rodolphus Lestrange, whose mother was so desperate to get him out of the house that she would wed him to a shamed daughter of Black." Your nose scrunched up in disgust at the very thought of the man and you seemed to shiver involuntarily. I wanted to ask what had happened but felt afraid to do so and instead sat motionless, waiting for you to continue. When you didn't I spoke instead.

"People still do that, then? Arrange marriages for their children? It's 1998, not 1798. That is an absolutely ridiculous tradition, what kind of twist-"

"_My_ family would do that, that's what kind," you snapped, cutting across me sharply. "Don't you dare insult them, filthy Mudblood. You have no idea what you are talking about, none at all."

"I'll insult your family as long as you continue to insult mine. Who do you think you are, Bellatrix Black, that you can sit there and degrade me with every other breath? Who do you think you are that you consider yourself my superior by birthright? Respect is earned, I don't care how many of your ancestors could do magic."

Your eyes widened and your nostrils flared with rage; you sat up suddenly, then winced and slumped back down again. No matter how angry you were, you were still badly injured and could not summon the energy to attack me. My courage bolstered by the sight, I continued. "I know the biggest reason you want us to be married: you want to protect yourself. You don't care about me, or even about your nephew. You just want to do whatever you want like you always have, and try to control me in the process. Well, guess what? I'm not doing it."

"You… what?" Nobody had ever spoken to you like this; I could tell. As far as you were concerned I was way out of line, and your hand reached for your wand almost automatically, itching to punish me for my insolence.

"There is nothing more important than family, and tradition is a part of that. Don't you understand what the Ministry is doing, trying to arrange marriages with filth? They want to destroy the family trees, make it so that there are no true Purebloods left. We're a dying branch of the Wizarding community and they want to outright destroy it. It is an outrage, an abomination, and there's nothing any of us can do to stop it." You were glaring at me with utter venom and loathing, and I imagined you in a wedding gown staring at me in the same way, and continuing to do so every day for the rest of our lives.

"Filth? _Filth_? Excuse me, but you're talking about myself here. That's not really a good way to convince me to help you, is it?"

"Well, it's true," you snapped furiously. "You're a Mudblood, your parents were filthy little Muggles – no, do not interrupt me, I am speaking and you will bloody well listen. You were the one who asked and I am trying to kindly oblige you. The ability to do magic is part of my definition of human, thus your family is less than that, as are you. You doing magic is like a pig dressing in human clothing and demanding to be treated equally. It's absurd, it's outrageous, and the Dark Lord knew it and was determined to put you swine back in line. And now the Ministry wants us, the highest of wizardkind, to _marry_ said swine? To spend the rest of our lives with absolute scum, to breed with such slime?" You shivered with disgust. "My sister may have no issue with that but I assure you, she is very much in the minority."

I glare at you, shaking with rage. I was seeing red; never have I been so insulted. "Very well then, Bellatrix Black. I'll just be going now. I'm sure the Ministry would love to get their hands on you. I'll even do you a favor and ask them to spare your life. You can return to Azkaban, they've saved your cell for you and the Dementors missed you terribly. It will be like coming home again, won't it?" I kept my voice calm and cold, trying to hold back my smirk as your eyes widened.

"No, please not that. You can't!" You had a hard time accepting that a Muggle-born had such power as to send you back to jail, but even you knew it was true. I wasn't kidding this time; I had had enough of you. You went from sneering and harsh to pleading and desperate almost at once. "Please, I can't go back there. I – I'll do anything, please don't make me go." I raised my eyebrow, careful to keep the rest of my expression blank.

"Stop insulting me and I won't order your arrest. Call me by my name, not "Mudblood". Do not presume to insult my family ever again. At the very least, do that and I'm sure we'll get along just fine." You glowered at me with utter loathing but wordlessly nodded.

"Very well, now that that's sorted out," I paused and watched with a detached satisfaction as your nostrils flared with anger, but you did not interrupt again, the unseen threat of Azkaban now hanging before you. "How does this change anything? Why should I want to marry you?" You shook your head impatiently.

"I was raised expecting to be forced to marry someone not of my choosing, which is precisely what happened. The last thing I want would be to go through all of that all over again, so this is the only way I can fight back. I don't know how else I can make you understand, girl. Draco, on the other hand, was brought up knowing that he could choose his bride. This would hurt him less, and hurt me far less. It shouldn't affect you much either way, really, aside from that heir business… Do you want to have a baby with Draco? If you do, by all means, leave me and my offer here and go see him. Do what the Ministry tells you like a good little girl." You made shooing gestures with your hands but I didn't move.

It was the very last thing I wanted to do, but I moved my chair closer to you, looking right into your eyes. "I don't want to have a baby and you know it, especially not with _Malfoy_." The very thought of it disgusted me, lying in a bed next to him, sleeping with him and carrying his child… not a chance. I would not allow it. "If I married you instead… nobody would expect us to… you know…" I blushed, fumbling with my words. I knew what I wanted to say but not how to say it.

You smirked, enjoying my awkwardness. You reached out to stroke my cheek with a long fingernail, laughing as I jerked away. "No, nobody would know if we had sex or not. And we would not, I assure you, girl. Just in case your hopes were up."

I blushed harder, if possible. This was an important turning point, but did you really feel the need to make it so bloody uncomfortable? "So, we'll be married in name only. We wouldn't have to live together or anything, right?"

"Of course. There will be none of that, and the Ministry can't get their wand in a twist over it either. Everybody will benefit from this, you'll see."

"But, how will I tell them that I'm changing their plan. They won't like that."

You rolled your eyes impatiently. "Merlin's beard, Mu- Hermione, they told me you were smart. Come up with something, anything at all. It doesn't matter; it still works with their plan. Just get over yourself and talk to them. Don't take no for an answer."

I nodded, rising again to leave. I had spent more than enough time here listening to you for one day, and my joints cried out in pain as I stretched them. I had been sitting for far longer than I thought, three and a half hours according to the clock hung on the wall. I looked around the Hospital Wing, noting that there were no other patients here. I knew that there were many wounded during the battle, but they had clearly been moved out when you came in here. Was it for your safety or theirs?

I head to the door again, stopping before I left. I expected to hear you say something again, perhaps a word of encouragement or even gratitude. You did shout to me, a harsh cry of "Get out!" My new fiancée was as about as charming as a Blast-Ended Skrewt, but you are the only thing I had to defy the Ministry. Shaking my head, I exited the room without comment.


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: I know it has been a while since the last update, but I had to sort some things out. Sorry, guys. I went back to the last chapter and changed the second half; after reading your reviews I agreed that Hermione was too OOC when she just sat there and allowed herself to be insulted. I added about a page that changes the dynamics of her relationship with Bellatrix, so please take a look at that before continuing. Thanks. Lyrics are from Our Truth by Lacuna Coil.**

**-Ophelia**

_Clock is ticking while I'm killing time_

_Spinning all around_

_Nothing else that you can do_

_To turn it back_

_Wicked partnership in this crime_

_Ripping off the best_

_Condescending smile_

I felt almost dazed as I made my way to the Great Hall, my feet leading me automatically towards the warmth and promise of food and good company. The Gryffindor table was packed, but fell silent when I approached. My eyes drifted over the upturned faces, watching me with mixed pity and horror.

My hands balled into fists. The news had clearly gotten out somehow, and when I sat down I was overwhelmed by a flood of half-hearted sentiments.

"This is unjust, Hermione. They can't do this!" But they did, and with very little opposition.

"I'm trying to get a petition to stop this law, Hermione, but… it passed before I could finish." There were only five signatures.

"All of my friends agree that this is wrong, Hermione." Oh, that's nice. Are your friends Ministry officials?

More and more people piled around me, people whose faces I recognized and many that I didn't. Despite their words of comfort and sympathy, there was one message that rang out clearly on each one of their faces. Whatever they said to the contrary, they were just pleased that I was the first victim and not them. It took only a few moments before I couldn't take any more. I stood to leave, but then saw Luna Lovegood struggling to make her way through the packed crowd around me. "Luna!" I cried, reaching to her. Sure, we had our differences, but she was nothing if not honest and that's what I needed right now, not false sympathy.

She reached me quickly, the crowd clearing for her as if worried that her strangeness would contaminate them. "Hello, Hermione," she said vaguely, sitting down and reaching for a goblet of pumpkin juice. The crowd quietly dispersed, one by one. Luna turned to look at me, smiling in that dreamy way of hers. "I heard about your wedding. Terrible, isn't it?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but she wasn't looking at me as she buttered a biscuit and continued. "Daddy has received a bunch of editorials about it, complaining about the Ministry. Don't you see what they really want to do here?" She looked back at me, her large eyes wide and eager with a new conspiracy theory. I knew that look all too well, but was spared hearing her crazy new idea by a tap on my shoulder.

I turned, taken aback to see that it was Draco Malfoy behind me, not Harry or Ron as I had guessed. "Malfoy?" He looked uncomfortable, but took a steadying breath, squaring his shoulders and raising his chin slightly.

"Gr- Hermione. I take it you've heard the news, I think we ought to at least try to be civil, don't you?" He raised a pale eyebrow on an otherwise expressionless face, somehow maintaining his composure perfectly.

I nodded, understanding how important this would be to him. Glancing around the hall, I could see various Aurors watching him intently, preparing to strike should he attack me. If we could keep our tempers under control, there would be no need for them to intervene, and no need for them to think even less of him. The performance of his life had begun; he had a lot of people to impress if he wanted to be accepted into society again. It all starts with how he handles his surprise wedding.

"I agree, Draco. Why don't we go for a walk around the lake? I have a lot that I need to share with you." He nodded tersely, following me as I rose and exited the hall. We walked in silence out the huge doors onto the grounds, where there was far less of a chance of being overheard. We reached the tree that, only a few days ago, I had been lounging under with Harry and Ron. I swallowed hard and turned to face Draco again. After a long moment, he spoke.

"I heard about how you reacted to the new law, I did the same thing when I got the owl. I was at home and my parents saw it too. Mother was furious, but Father said that it would be much better than Azkaban, and that he at least was grateful that I would be safe had a chance at getting my life together. He's right, of course, but it was very strange seeing him be the calm and rational one. That's always Mum." He scuffed the ground with his foot, avoiding my eye.

I was unsure how to respond to that, wondering how my parents would have reacted. I'm sure they would have been furious on my behalf as well, but as Muggles they would have even less influence than the Malfoys, little as that was. For a moment I half expected Draco to ask about my family, but of course he did not. Instead, he gave a shout of fury and threw a rock into the lake, where it landed with a satisfyingly loud splash.

Still not looking at me, he threw himself to the ground and began to talk again. "This is complete rubbish, all of it. How stupid do they really think we are, that they can just force us together and expect their problems to melt away?" For a moment he sounded like the same whiny teenager he always had been, but then it passed and he seemed weighed down with all the troubles in the world. I knew that he suffered more than the rest of us in the war and was curious to see what kind of man it made of him. "Father has always said that there were some crazy ideas flying around in the Ministry, but that they were inevitable and that nothing could come of them anyway. He said that there are always stupid ideas even from the best of people, but that the point of the government was to keep them from being taken too seriously. Things have changed a lot if they can actually support this plan. Surely there are powerful people who disagree with it?" He looked up at me, almost desperate.

I sighed and sat down too, keeping a couple of feet between us. "I have no idea. They've told me no more about this plan than you."

"I see." I watched as his hand clenched into a fist, but he kept his voice remarkably calm. At long last, the insufferable Draco Malfoy has learned to restrain himself. "As much as I dislike it, I can understand why they would want to punish me, but why you? Did they say why they had chosen you for this, or even why they decided to attack Mud- ah, Muggle-borns in general? Hasn't the war targeted you enough?"

It was the same question that had been plaguing me, and yet any time I spoke to an Order member who was in on the plan, they turned mysteriously deaf. "I don't know," I said wearily, and he finally turned to face me, sympathetic. His change in demeanor shocked me, but comforted me as well. If this is what Draco was like now then perhaps I should have agreed to marry him after all. Anyone was better than you, Bellatrix; it should have been obvious from the start. My decision to agree with your plan had been hasty and poorly considered, and now that I was away from the confines of the hospital wing and from your menacing and piercing glare it was as clear as day. I groaned in frustration at my own crippling stupidity and Draco looked at me in slight surprise.

"Are you, er, all right, er, Hermione?" He rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort, clearly struggling to be polite. I appreciated the effort, which I had not been expecting at all. It seemed that I would have to tell him my plan now, and I squirmed in embarrassment at the thought before turning to gaze over the lake. The sun was setting over the still water, a colorful and peaceful image that soothed my frayed nerves. I took a deep breath before beginning to explain.

"Did you hear that your aunt is still here at the school?" Out of the corner of my eye I could see his face darken, his brow furrowing.

"I had heard that, yeah," he said rather gruffly. His voice was tinged with thinly veiled distain, and I was rather apprehensive of telling him the plan. He was still a Death Eater, even if he never wanted to be, and I needed to keep that in mind. It had been far easier than it should have been to deal with you while you were so grievously wounded, but if we were to be married then I would have to deal with you at full strength for the rest of my life.

What had I done? How could I have agreed to this?

Draco interrupted my internal debate with a small cough, clearly made even more uncomfortable by the sudden silence. "Yeah, I heard that she was still here. The Ministry is cracking down on Death Eaters; most of them that are not in Azkaban yet are being held in the castle while they decide on their punishments. They were all given a last chance to talk to someone on the winning side, remember? Apparently Aunt Bella decided that her best chance was to talk to you. She, ah… She thinks you're a bit of a pushover. She was confident that she could manipulate you, or that she could overpower you and use you as a human shield." His hand was on the back of his neck again and he had the grace to flush a bit as he explained. "She assumed that you would be afraid of her… after… what, um, happened," he finished lamely.

"Well, she wasn't completely wrong," I muttered quietly, then sighed. "Yeah, but she didn't count on being beaten up and restrained, did she? She never had a chance to do anything but talk, but once I got there she had nothing to say to me. Then she tried to run off, then I had to go find her because the Order had poisoned her, then she started crying and wanted to die, then I had to go bring her back to the castle, then she had to go to the hospital wing, then she and her sister yelled at each other, then she told me about her childhood, then she asked me to marry her instead of you and I agreed." The words poured from me before I could stop them, leaving me breathless and Draco staring at me.

"She… you… what?" He looked at me in a kind of desperation, almost pleading for me to tell him that he had heard me completely wrong.

I continued staring over the surface of the lake, refusing to meet his eyes, which I could feel burning into me. "She somehow managed to convince me that it would be more helpful, to her and to you, if I married her instead of you. I agreed, and I'm not about to go back on a promise." I didn't add that the main turning point was avoiding having sex with him; that would probably be the only thing that could make this moment even more uncomfortable.

He stared at me, his eyes widening. "No, no, I don't think you understand the situation here. They're watching me and my family very carefully; this is my only chance to redeem myself. That was a very… selfish, to say the least, decision of hers." I noted the way he left me out of it, as if I was not a part of that decision at all myself. "This affects more than just you and me, Hermione. This affects my whole family, and I'm not letting you two throw a wrench on the works without talking with my parents." He stood up, brushing the dirt primly from his robes, and reached a hand expectantly towards me in preparation to Disapparate.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: It's been another looong wait between chapters, I know. I went to write this earlier and ended up posting a smut piece instead, which is better than staring blankly at the screen like usual, but still not an update. I've just been having a really hard time lately doing… pretty much everything. I've lost all motivation to do anything, even to continue this story, which is one of the few things I actually enjoy. Massive thanks to the super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot Kriszti for helping me with this stuff. Please take a moment to review, every one means a lot to me. Lyrics are from The Black Brigade by Project 86**

**-Ophelia**

_Straining on to run without remorse_

_Casting off mistakes that came before_

_In my mind I see a hallowed door_

_Open arm embrace, I'm reaching for..._

_Committed_

_Determined_

_My gaze is set on finishing_

I stared at his outstretched hand, feeling my stomach drop with horror. Return to his house, the very same place where you hurt me so badly? Return to that place of pain and terror, where Luna and Mr. Ollivander were imprisoned for so long? I wouldn't do it. I couldn't do it; couldn't bring myself to go with him. "Draco, I- I can't do it. Please don't make me go back there." I sat back down and hid my face in my hands.

Draco Malfoy is not a harsh man, but he certainly seemed merciless to me, asking me to go back to that awful place. He knelt down beside me, prying my hands none to gently from my face and cupping my chin in his hand. He tilted my face up, forcing me to look into his pale eyes. "Why do you fear my home, Hermione?" he asked, his voice colder than I expected.

I blinked in surprise; surely he knew the answer to that. "Your aunt tortured me there," I whispered, trying to turn my head away but unable to with his hand holding me still. Draco looked triumphant, but then oddly pitying. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, but his eyes held a sadness and compassion that he so rarely showed. I knew that I could never expect you to look at me with such concern and found myself doubting our agreement again.

"Precisely. It was my aunt who attacked you. Not me, not my parents. But who is it that you would rather marry, hm? Me, that obnoxious kid from school," his voice was teasing but then grew deadly serious, "or the woman who you barely know but who hurt you so badly. What the hell are you playing at?" He stood up again, staring me down.

I couldn't bear to look at him; I knew he was right. "I made an agreement, Draco. Your aunt is a loathsome woman, I know, but I promised to help her..." My voice and argument sounded weak and childish even to me, and from his raised eyebrows and smirk I could see that Draco agreed. I fumbled for the proper words to explain myself, but none came. Here, away from your piercing and menacing gaze, it was next to impossible to justify my decision.

Draco spoke up again, still towering over me. "Exactly, she is. So why would you decide to save her instead of to be with me? I don't want this wedding any more than you do, Hermione, but I'll do whatever it takes to protect my family. _She_," he pronounced the word with a look of disgust, "is not family. I don't care what happens to her." He looked strong and determined, a major change from the way he was during the war. The death of Voldemort was clearly a huge weight taken from his shoulders, and without it he stood taller and stronger than ever before.

It was quiet for a moment after Draco's declaration, and I could hear water lapping at the shore of the Black Lake. Shattering that moment of peaceful silence was my memory of what exactly you had said to convince me to marry you, and my cheeks burned. Draco noticed and raised an eyebrow, and I shifted uncomfortably. I needed to explain and here the words were at last, but I wished I didn't have to be the one to speak them. "Er- well... You're the only Malfoy heir, right?"

Draco nodded tersely, clearly not grasping what I was getting at. I cleared my throat, my face still flushed, and forced myself to continue. I struggled to keep my voice matter-of-fact, as yours had been, but probably only succeeded in sounding like an idiot. "Well, um... You would be expected to father children, right? To continue the family line?"

After what felt like an eternity of staring at me in confusion Draco seemed to catch on. He smirked. "You're going to marry my psychotic aunt and spend the rest of your life with her... to avoid shagging me. Is that it? That's all she had to say to convince you?" He laughed and I wished that something, anything at all, would take me away from this moment. Perhaps the Giant Squid would come out of the lake and carry me off, perhaps a meteor would fall and squish me flat. Anything but looking back at Draco's eyes, alit with his usual terrible glee.

"It's not funny," I muttered. "The Ministry clearly didn't think of this, or maybe they just don't care. But I do care, a lot. They're already trying to sell my hand, they don't need the rest of my body too."

Draco finally stopped laughing at that, then looked at me curiously. "Ah, well, that does make sense, Gra- Hermione. Of course you would care about that. To be honest, I never thought of that at all." Now was his turn to look embarrassed.

I sighed. "Neither did I, until Bellatrix brought it up. I was about to tell her to sod off until she said it, and I just can't forget about it."

There was another awkward pause. "Well, erm... Is this because I'm a bloke?" he blurted out. I couldn't help but laugh; I was very strongly reminded of Ron. Draco scowled at me, his pale cheeks flushed. "Don't laugh, I'm serious. You're a girl, obviously. You would rather marry Aunt Bella than me because you don't want to have to sleep with me. Is she the better option because she's a woman?" He spoke rather quickly and scuffed the ground with his foot to avoid my astonished gaze.

"No, no, it's not like that. I'm, er, I'm not gay, Draco. Really. She promised that we would be married in name only, enough to satisfy the Ministry but we don't have to live together or... or anything like that." He looked at me suspiciously, as though he didn't believe me. "It's true! I just really can't see myself having kids..." My voice trailed off to avoid adding 'especially with a git like you', which would no doubt create more problems than it was worth.

After watching me shrewdly for another moment, Draco sighed again. He looked incredibly weary, as if the world had been placed on his shoulders and I was refusing to bear the load. I squirmed with guilt, but knew that I couldn't back down. If nothing else, I dreaded your reaction if I backed out of our agreement. "So that's it then. You'll help her and not me over something so insignificant, so stupid. She doesn't deserve mercy, Hermione. She deserves to die, or be put back in jail. And you deserve better than her." I was surprised that he would say something as nice at that, but there was something about his little speech that irked me.

"Stupid and insignificant? Excuse me, Draco, for thinking this is important. Excuse me for trying to have some semblance of control over my life." I knew that he was trying to do the same thing, and that it was childish of me to walk off with nothing resolved, but I felt that there was nothing either of us could add to the solution now. He was right and I would eventually need to face his parents to tell them the change in plans, but the very thought of such an unpleasant encounter terrified me. I turned away from him and swept up towards the castle, walking faster after thought I heard him behind me. A glance over my shoulder confirmed that he was not following; he did not even call out, just remained where he was looking utterly frustrated. I turned back and broke into a run.

My feet led me automatically towards Gryffindor Tower, leaving me free to look around at the rubble that was still scattered across many of the destroyed corridors. There had been massive efforts to restore the castle to its former glory, especially the Great Hall, but Professor McGonagall was concerned that the school would not be ready in time to reopen in September. Of course, I would not be likely to attend, as home sweet home. The Fat Lady swung open just as I approached, and to my delight it was Harry and Ron that had pushed the portrait open on the other side.

"Hermione!" Harry seems to have finally gotten a good night's sleep, as he called out eagerly to me and threw his arms around me. I laughed and hugged him back, happy to have such a good friend around instead of putting up with you and Draco. Merlin, it felt so nice to have a peaceful moment alone with my friends again. I turned, smiling widely, towards Ron but instead saw him hanging back.

The smile slid off my face at once. "What's the matter, Ron?" He turned to me with an ugly look on his face, his ears red and his expression oddly scathing.

"Oh, I don't know, Hermione. Wait a minute, aren't you getting married? Don't you think that might be what's wrong? Doesn't that strike you as a problem?" Harry reached a hand out towards his best friend, but Ron shook him off angrily, his chest heaving. His ears were as vivid a red as his hair, always a telling sign.

"Ron…" Looking between the two it was plain that they had argued over this many times before while I was waiting outside the hospital. Harry turned to me, his eyes full of sorrow and despair, silently begging me not to be angry with Ron. I knew how he hated being stuck in the middle of our fights, but this one was shaping up to be something else, something worse.

"How dare you?" I whispered, taking a step towards him. Harry stepped back quickly, but Ron held his ground, to his credit. "Do you think I'm happy about this? Do you think I wanted this?"

"Well, I certainly don't see you doing anything to stop it," he shot back.

"What? You can't be serious, Ron. What do you bloody expect me to do? This is the Ministry of Magic, not some school rule. It's a law. Or do you think those are optional?"

"I don't get it, Hermione. Do you want to marry Malfoy? Is that it? Are you so quiet about all of this because this is just what you wanted?" Harry groaned and clapped a hand over his face.

"WHAT?" This was well below the belt; Ron insisting that I actually wanted to spend my life with that nasty boy? I was absolutely speechless, and Ron took that as an opening to plow on.

"I see how it is, Hermione. You kept telling Harry and I to lay off him, not to get him angry, even when you knew we were right." Harry was shaking his head frantically, trying desperately to extract himself from Ron's argument. "That's why you turned me down the other night when I said I would try to stop this for you. You wanted this to go forward, you wanted to be with him. You've probably been fantasizing about this day for years, about walking around as Mrs. Hermione Malfoy, of living in a nice fancy mansion and having a bunch of little blond brats running around." His face was twisted with rage as he stepped towards me again, getting right up in my face. "Tell me something, Hermione. Is it just his money that you want? Or is it his-"

I never found out what else Ron was about to say, as my hand betrayed my self control and slapped him across the face. It was a rather hard blow, if I do say so myself, but he flew across the corridor and hit the opposite wall. It took a shocked moment to realize I had done unconscious magic for the first time since I was a little girl, my anger overcoming me completely. I was shaking with fury as Ron staggered to his feet, threw Harry and me a final filthy look, and stalked away self-righteously.

"Where do you think you are going, Ronald Weasley? GET BACK HERE, YOU ARSE!" I started to charge after him, wand drawn, but Harry grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

"Let him go, Hermione. You know how he gets, he just needs to calm down. He'll realize how awful that was and he'll come back to make it right, you'll see… He usually does…" I could easily break Harry's grip, but kept myself from struggling against him.

"What was all of that about?" I asked, feigning calmness to get Harry to release me. He did so and turned to face me, his shoulders hanging in defeat.

"He felt that you were not angry enough about the Ministry's new law. He spent days talking about it and deluded himself into thinking…well…" He looked at me warily before continuing very quickly. "He reckons you fancy Malfoy, which is why you're not making a big enough fuss about the wedding."

Not a big enough fuss? I had agreed to marry you, for Merlin's sake, but of course Harry didn't know that. Of course, he would need to know eventually; everyone would. If we wanted the Ministry to rearrange the wedding then they would need to know that changes had been made, and to do that I would need to break the news to them. I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath, hoping that Harry wouldn't react too badly considering how Ron had just behaved. "Harry, there's something I need to tell you… You see, I'm-"

Harry looked at me in confusion, opening his mouth slightly. The rest of my words were interrupted, however, by an anguished scream from the floor below us. We looked at each other, eyes wide. What horror could there possibly be now? Even worse, we recognized the voice. We turned simultaneously and ran for the stairs, ignoring the portraits that woke up along the corridor and began to shout after us. "Fleur…"


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Still feeling really unmotivated to do anything… Apologies in advance if this chapter sucks as a result. I feel like they've been getting worse and worse as I meander along. I have a bunch of ideas that seem like fun for this story, but I never really feel like writing them :/ Lyrics are from Deep Water Horizon by Epica, which is from their newest album that anyone with ears should listen to and enjoy. By the way, I also reuse the talking Patronus incantation I made up for Haunted here, and like before I don't know any Latin aside from what appears in the books. Fun fact, according to the all-knowing Mugglenet, **_**Crucio**_** is Latin for "I torture" and **_**Imperio**_** is "I control". That's the extent of my Latin, and frankly I don't see why I would ever need more than that. All right, I'll get to the chapter now.**

**-Ophelia**

_We have to wait_

_For a dying day_

_Full of black decay_

_We'll find a way_

_To become aware_

_Breathing tainted air_

_We change the lanes_

_In every second of our lives_

"Fleur?" Harry and I sprinted down the stairs, jumping the last few steps as the staircase began to move away. My heart was pounding in my throat; what else could possibly have happened? The war is over, we won. Why hasn't our misery ended? We found her sprawled on the ground in the corridor, her shimmering hair falling across her face as she continued screaming. It was a heart-rending sound, full of despair beyond words. "Fleur...?" We approached the wailing witch cautiously, not wanting to startle her. She finally took notice of Harry and me and sat up abruptly.

She had been hunched over Bill's body, which was mangled and broken. My gut roiled at the gruesome sight. Blood spread from his body in a pool all around him, staining Fleur's robes and splattered over her skin. I had never seen so much blood in my life; I could hardly believe it all came from one person. There was the strong metallic stench of iron in the air, which made me gag. I took a tentative step closer to the body, covering my nose with my robe, while Harry moved to comfort Fleur. Bill's clothes were ripped to shreds, but this was of minor importance, as his skin was as well. Large chunks of flesh had been torn out and tossed around, judging by the smears of blood across the floor, and lay scattered around the corpse. His face was slashed even worse than it had been last year, and he was only recognizable by his long, flaming red Weasley hair. Perhaps the most disturbing feature was the slimy heap of innards that lay besides the gaping cavity of his torso.

It was a brutal and disgusting way to die, especially for a good man like Bill Weasley. "He didn't deserve this," I murmured. "Nobody deserves this." Fleur sobbed harder in response, but Harry nodded solemnly. I turned to the grieving widow, reluctant to pester her for information but needing to get to the bottom of this. I could see a familiar gleam in Harry's eye, despite the sadness there as well, and knew that I probably looked the same. Here we were again with a mystery to solve, a puzzle to work out and odds to overcome. It was an irresistible situation, and despite the tragedy we wanted nothing more than to know what happened and why.

But of course, we had to try to be considerate, delicate. Harry looked pleadingly at me and I sighed. Why do I always have to be the smooth talker? I knelt down beside Fleur and wrapped an arm over her blood-drenched shoulder. Her willowy frame was shaking with sobs, and I wasn't sure if she could even hear me. "Fleur..."

She abruptly stopped sobbing and flinched away from me, gazing at me through her bloodshot eyes. Even with her hair a mess and her face pink from crying she was exceptionally beautiful. She looked desperate and lost as she stared at me, and for a moment it was just like watching you fall apart over your master again. Hopefully Fleur would not react in the same way, but she looked hysterical. All of a sudden, I felt rather frightened to speak to her, as if she would leap up and try to kill me as you might have done. It was an irrational fear; after all, this was just Fleur. The same Fleur who was in the Triwizard Tournament, the same Fleur whose wedding I went to. She would never attack me, not as you would, but I couldn't bring myself to speak to her. I looked to Harry for assistance, clearing my throat pointedly, and he hesitantly came forward as well.

"Fleur, what happened here? Who did this?" She shook her head, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. "Please, this is important," he implored. "Is there anyone who may have had a grudge against him?" I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him; of course there are. Bill was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, who had just won a war. Of course the Death Eaters would hold grudges, especially with this awful new law passed. Come on, Harry, is this the best you can do?

But Fleur's eyes widened, and her hands balled into fists. "Oui," she hissed. "Greyback. 'E did zis, 'Arry. 'E sent letters to my Bill all year. 'E said... 'e said..." She hid her face in her hands and cried something in French, but of course Harry and I had no idea what it was. After her outburst, she seemed to calm down again, lowering her hands again. She was crying harder now but tried to speak again. Her voice was shaking, but just barely decipherable. "Ze werewolf, 'e threatened my Bill all year. To finish what 'e started, 'e said. Bill burned ze letters and told me not to worry, and now..." She gestured to the mangled corpse that lay in gory pieces around her.

I stated at her in horror, but Harry squared his shoulders. "Let's go to see Madam Pomfrey, Fleur. She'll give you a nice calming draught, all right?" He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she did not cringe this time. He looked up at me, gesturing towards the remains of Bill Weasley on the ground. "How are we going to break this to Mrs. Weasley? And what should we do with him here? We can't just leave him, but it's not like we can bring him with us…"

My heart sank. "I don't know how to tell her, Harry. Not after they just lost Fred…" I took a deep breath, forcing myself to understand the situation. He was dead; there was no getting around that. It seemed hard to believe, after all of the bloodshed just days ago. Harry seemed to agree.

"This was not supposed to happen. The war is over now. We're supposed to be safe." He stamped his foot in frustration. "How could this have happened? I thought the Death Eaters were all being kept locked up, how could he have escaped?"

I looked at him, shocked. I had not even considered that, but of course there were still Death Eaters in Hogwarts. I should have remembered that; it was what got me into this whole mess with you in the first place. After seeing what the Order had done to you, I was certain that there was no way anybody else could escape, that they didn't have a chance. Harry said it all: How _could_ this have happened? "I'll tell the Order, they'll know what to do. _Expecto Patronum Mobiliarum_." I raised my wand and focused hard on memories from before the war, of hanging out at the Burrow with Harry and Ron, of childish joy and sunshine and happiness. The shining silver otter shot out from the end of my wand and stood at attention, awaiting my message. I took a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain the sight before me.

I tried to start casually, almost lighthearted. "Hey, guys, this is Hermione. Harry and I are up here on the sixth floor with Fleur, we're heading down to the hospital wing. You see… Bill's dead." At that, Fleur let out a shriek of misery and threw herself to the ground, and I had to raise my voice over her while Harry tried to calm her. I gulped before continuing, willing my next words to vanish before anyone heard them. If nobody said it, it would feel less true. "It's a real mess; we think it was Greyback that got him. We don't know what to do," I whispered, my voice refusing to stay strong and detached. I couldn't keep talking, so I sent the message off to Professor McGonagall. My eyes suddenly burned with unshed tears, and a painful lump blocked my throat. The numb haze that filled me since we discovered what was left of Bill seemed to vanish, leaving me a complete wreck. I had not known Bill very well, but I knew considered his family to be mine, and they were already stricken by the death of Fred. How much more could we all take of this? When does it end, when have we suffered enough?

Hurried footsteps sounded in the corridor, and as I raised my head I could see McGonagall rushing towards us, looking even more serious than usual. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, what happened here?" she asked, eyes widening at the gruesome sight before her. "Oh dear…" Her piercing gaze swept over the carnage across the ground, finally falling on the part-Veela sprawled across the floor. McGonagall seemed to steel herself at the sight, tucking away her horror and approaching Fleur. I felt enormously relieved to see her, knowing that someone much smarter, stronger and more experienced than me was now in control of the situation. "Mrs. Weasley, it will be all right now. Up you get, we ought to bring you down to see Madam Pomfrey." Fleur shook her lovely head frantically.

"No, no, it will not be all right. Bill is dead. I will not be all right." She threw her arms around Harry's neck and screamed in despair, burying her face into his shoulder. Harry looked desperate to extract himself from that position, but did not want to further upset Fleur. In another situation I would have laughed at his discomfort before helping him out, but here there was nothing at all funny about it, and I didn't move. Professor McGonagall did, though, and gently but firmly pulled Harry out of her grasp.

"Mrs. Weasley, I must insist. We'll give you a calming draught and decide how best to capture the one who did this." She turned to me. "You said that it was Fenrir Greyback, is that correct? How have you two worked that out? Are you positive?"

Harry stepped forward. "Fleur said that he had been sending threatening messages to him all year, Professor. After he attacked Bill last year, he said he wanted to finish it. Also, who else would make such a mess?" She seemed to consider him for a moment and Harry shrunk from her searching gaze like a wilting plant, but then she turned away to face me.

"We will not touch the body just yet. The Weasleys should not see this, certainly not, but this is a crime scene. The Aurors will want to take a look before he is moved, and we will ask Molly and Arthur what they would like us to do next." She waved her wand in several complicated motions, muttering incantations under her breath, and the air around us shimmered. Of course; she would need to set wards to keep others away. "I will inform Kingsley of what happened as soon as possible, we need the body examined within the hour. It will not do at all to leave him lying here, that would be unhygienic and disrespectful." McGonagall strode over to Fleur's shaking form and knelt down. "Your husband was a wonderful man, Mrs. Weasley, and he never deserved anything like this. I'm terribly sorry that you two had such a short time together. Please, do stand up."

After a few minutes, her sobs lowering into sniffles, Fleur rose from her crouched position. In an unusual show of emotion and compassion, McGonagall wrapped an arm comfortingly around her shoulders and led her away from the mangled remains of her husband. Harry and I glanced at each other, then at the body, then at the women making their way from the corridor, then back at each other. I could see the desperation and worry in his eyes, and knew that he was thinking the same thing that I was, about how the war was tearing us all apart even after it ended.

There was nothing else that could be done here, so we rushed down the stairs to reach the hospital wing with McGonagall and Fleur. Harry pulled the heavy doors open and gestured for the ladies to enter first, and then we all stepped into the ward. Professor McGonagall quickly went over to Madam Pomfrey, explaining in a low whisper what had just occurred. Madam Pomfrey let out a shocked gasp, then hurried into her office for a moment while Fleur was led to a bed and asked to lie down. Fleur wasn't having it.

"No! No! I do not want to be calm, I do not want to feel better! My Bill is dead! Where iz zat werewolf? I will kill him! I will kill him like 'e killed Bill! I will tear 'im apart! Let go of me!" She was thrashing furiously against the old professor, fighting tooth and nail to leave the room. A sudden harsh laugh filled the room, and everyone spun around quickly to face the source.

Ah, of course, you were still here recovering. It had only been a few hours since I left here, but it felt like years. How could I have forgotten you so quickly? Your black eyes were filled with a terrible glee as you watched Fleur struggle, as she screamed her desire for bloodshed and revenge. "My, what a lovely girl. Such violence, and ambition." You laughed again. "I like this one." Harry thrust his hand into his pocket upon sight of you, preparing to pull out his wand.

"You!" he shouted. "You dare to show your filthy face here? You killed Sirius, you bitch!" He strode forward and placed his wand on your forehead, breathing heavily. You didn't bat an eyelid, still focused on Fleur as she squirmed against McGonagall's grip. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now, you vile piece of scum," he snarled. His insults were similar to the ones you always had for me, and they sounded far weaker in Harry's voice. Even so, I had never seen him so angry in my life, not even when dealing with Umbridge.

You glanced at him as though finally noticing him, your expression disdainful as ever. Merlin, would a bit of humility kill you? Could you not see that your life might be in danger? You reached up and grasped Harry's wrist, but did not pull his wand away from yourself. He stared at you, transfixed, his face contorted with his terrible rage. "Go on, then, Potter. Kill me. I killed my cousin, and my niece. Kill me. I tortured that Mudblood," you jerked your head in my direction without taking your eyes from Harry, "and the Longbottoms, and who knows how many else? Kill me. I've spent my whole life serving the man who murdered your parents, and I was his finest and proudest servant. Kill me. You want me dead? I'm right here and I won't defend myself. JUST FUCKING KILL ME!" you screamed at him. You looked demented, your eyes wild and your hair crackling with magic.

Harry pulled his hand out of your slackened grip and stepped back, horrified. "What are you playing at?" he demanded furiously. Despite his anger, his voice shook with fear. His brow was furrowed in confusion, and his scowl softened somewhat into a frown. "What the hell is going on…" he muttered. I looked back at you; you looked utterly miserable, like a child whose promised treat was snatched away from them at the last second. I wanted to talk to you again, but felt McGonagall's eyes on me. She knew that I understood what had just happened and why, and would undoubtedly pounce on me for information the first chance she got.

I sighed and turned my back on you, hoping to help calm Fleur down. After all, she could hardly just go charging off to attack Greyback in such a hysterical state. This was my first mistake; failing to keep an eye on you for even a moment. "Oh, ignoring me now, are we, Mudblood? My, what a lovely wife you'll make, hmm? I can hardly wait, such fun we'll have…" Busted.

Harry turned around slowly, his emerald eyes hard and angry. "What did she just say, Hermione? What's she talking about?" He spoke through gritted teeth and for a moment I let myself believe that you didn't hear him. But of course you did, and you were more than happy to take the question for me.

"Oh, didn't you hear, Potter?" Your voice was innocent, as was your expression, but there was no mistaking your usual cruelty that lurked under your false tone and sparkled in your eyes. "Your dear Mudblood and I are getting married. Didn't she tell you? She seemed just so excited, jumping at any chance to get away from my poor nephew." You pouted overdramatically and childishly. "The boy is certainly missing out, but I suppose she just prefers me." You grinned at him, a rather alarming expression that I had learned almost always preceded imminent disaster.

Harry gaped at her for a moment before he rounded on me while McGonagall stood to the side, speechless. He grabbed the front of my robes, pulling me forward so that I was an inch away from him. "What the fuck, Hermione? How could you?" Your laughter was ringing in my ears as I scrambled to find the right words. There were tears in Harry's eyes, but I was infuriated. Not just in the way you had taken it upon yourself to break the news to him, but in how easily he believed it.

"Harry, calm down. Do you honestly believe her, just like that? There's much more to it than that." He stared at me, unimpressed. "I was trying to tell you, right before we heard Fleur screaming. I would never keep things from you, Harry."

"Oh, you wouldn't? Fine, then. Tell me everything. Why did she want to talk to you in the first place? Why did you try to save her when she ran away? What did you talk about today when you came here? Why are you getting married? What is going on here?" He released me and threw me forward so that I crashed into your bed. You pushed me away to keep me from landing on you, and I fell to the ground, losing my balance completely.

It was all too much, seeing both of my best friends turn on me one right after another, with the prospect of spending the rest of my life with you looming ahead of me. I nearly burst into tears right then and there, but the only thing keeping me together was your scornful gaze burning into my back. I couldn't explain any of it to Harry, nor to anybody else. I took a deep breath before looking up at the man I considered to be my brother, who was glaring down at me with anger and disgust. "Harry, please just calm down. I'll try to tell you what I can, but I can't share everything. I'm doing the best I can." He continued to stare at me, then slowly nodded.

"Tell me."


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: Oh my god. I've become one of **_**those**_** authors. You know, the ones that go a month without updating. I'm so sorry, my dear readers. I've been going through a terrible time lately for no apparent reason, and it's been extremely hard for me to write. I'm so sorry. To those of you who mentioned in your reviews how stupid the plan of the Ministry's is, I'm quite glad you think that. Anger was just the reaction I was going for there, and I wanted it to look completely unreasonable. Please remember, though, that it this point there is absolutely no romance between Bellatrix and Hermione in any way, shape or form. That comes later. Thanks for all of your reviews, I appreciate any feedback. Lyrics are from The Last Crusade by Epica.**

**-Ophelia**

_You can't get away with your crimes_

_And you never will_

_For you'll have to pay the price_

_And the time is near_

_No more innocence left to kill_

"Mr. Potter, what on earth are you doing?" Professor McGonagall had finally stopped fretting and decided to act, pulling me to my feet. It was most unusual for her to be stunned into passivity like that, but then again it was equally unusual for Harry to get violent, and for me to cry in public. The only person acting like themselves was you, gleefully watching the proceedings from your bed, and that was by no means a good thing.

"Well now, baby Potter; I can't have you treating my future wife like that. How terribly rude." You let out one of your trademark cackles and I felt my stomach sink at the very sound. Merlin, what had I been thinking, agreeing to spend the rest of my life with you? I turn wearily to look at you, as did Harry and McGonagall. Your thin lips were set in an absurd pout, but your eyes flashed with cruel excitement. I haven't seen you so animated in days; you were straining to leave the bed, which I could see Madam Pomfrey had magically bound you to. No doubt the Order still considered you a flight risk, seeing how you had taken off in a near-death condition only days previously. I sighed. The wedding would sort that out soon enough, but then I might be the one trying to escape. What length would you go to keep me from calling everything off?

It was time to find out. The more I considered my upcoming marriage, the worse it sounded, and the more desperate I became. It was a stupid plan, foolish and hasty, and with every person I told about it I felt less and less sure of my decision. Draco had been on his very best behavior and assured me that if we were married, he would continue to be. You had done nothing of the sort. Why should I listen to you? Why would I tie myself to someone who continues to abuse and insult me, even after promising not to? Harry and McGonagall were glaring daggers at you, while Madam Pomfrey quietly administered a sleeping potion to Fleur, who was still struggling to get up and fight. After a long moment, nobody said or did anything else, and I spoke up.

"You know, I'm not really too sure on this whole wedding thing, Bellatrix. You promised to be nicer to me, remember? You even promised to use my given name. Draco does that, and you would have me choose you over him?" Your eyes widened, then your face set in a snarl. You didn't need to say anything for me to know what you were thinking. Here I was again, some stupid little girl trying to give you orders as if I ran the place, as if I was _superior_ to you, the last scion of House Black. You opened your mouth, no doubt to say just that, but I raised my eyebrows and silently mouthed 'Azkaban'. Your mouth snapped shut as the blood drained from your face. There it was again, the only hand I had to play, but one that we both knew would win every time.

"Will someone explain what's going on?" Harry asked through gritted teeth. Oh, Harry. He does get terribly upset when he is kept out of the loop, no matter for what reason. He had shown that clearly enough in the summer before our fifth year, and I knew that he would be relentless in harassing me for information if I didn't share it with him now. I sighed and sat down on the foot of your bed, which was far more comfortable than the straight-backed wooden chairs to its side. Your foot twitched, as if you longed to kick me until I got up, but with my recent reminder you didn't dare harm me. I briefly considered stretching out besides you, just to watch you squirm and try to contain your rage, but your self control was weak at best and I knew that would very quickly shatter it.

I looked up at Harry, who was breathing heavily in an attempt to calm himself. At the other end of the bed, you were doing the same, but I ignored you and focused on my unofficial brother. His vivid eyes were desperate as he tried to comprehend what was going on in front of him, and to find a solution to my problem that would not result in my being wed to the abhorrent dark witch. "I don't want to marry Draco," I began simply. "Bellatrix doesn't want to go to prison. This is the only way we could take care of both of those without the Ministry getting in the way. After all, I think this goes above and beyond the call of duty, for me to marry her," I added snidely, casting a sideways glance at you. You balled the sheets in your fist and pressed your lips together tightly, but forced yourself not to shoot back a derisive reply. I felt a wave of smug satisfaction. It doesn't feel so good to be insulted all the time, does it?

Harry looked thoughtful, but McGonagall had removed her glasses and was pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "The two of you are oversimplifying the matter, I'm afraid. I must say I expected better of you, such bright students. The Ministry of Magic will by no means be pleased with this. As you have clearly forgotten, Miss Black has been convicted of her many crimes, and will pay for them with her death. A wedding will not save her."

You let out a loud gasp and I turn to look at you, surprised to see your mouth hanging open in shock, trying to take in what you had just heard. You normally have far better control of your expression than this, but a death sentence would shake just about anybody. "And why has nobody seen fit to tell me _that_," you spat, after a moment of silence.

"I forgot about it," I mumbled, hanging my head in shame. Come on, Hermione, what's wrong with you? I never forget anything.

"You forgot?" you shrieked. You sat bolt upright in the bed, wincing as the motion tugged at your partly healed wounds, but pointed a bony, clawed finger at me. It was a gesture of condemnation, as though I had purposely left out such vital information. I had done no such thing, but quailed before you all the same. "How could you forget? If you were going to die, I would surely remember that."

Yes, you surely would. Why not? I was the enemy, after all, and you loved nothing more than to bask in the sorrow of those you hated. I was certainly at the top of that list for you, a Mudblood who refused to learn her place no matter how many times you struck her down. But… I had not remembered that you were going to die, I had not remembered your demise. What did that mean? Did that mean that I no longer considered you an enemy anymore, if I felt nothing more than a cold pit of horror at what should have been good news? It was as if I had been the one facing an execution, such was my despair. It was because this signaled the end of my plan, yes, that must be it. I felt no compassion for you, not here, not now. _But you did before,_ came a tiny voice in the back of my mind. _You went out to find her when she ran off, you tried to save her._ But that was the love potion, I was tricked… _You cared when they had her bound in chains and beaten. They hurt her and you made it stop, you protected her._ I shivered, the voice had me there. But surely I would have helped anyone in that situation, right? It was the decent, human thing to do, to help her. It was nothing personal, it couldn't be…

McGonagall's voice jerked me from my reverie, and I turned gratefully to her. "Miss Granger, if you really want to do this then you must decide on a better plan of action." Her mouth was pulled down in a frown, an expression that she rarely had when speaking to me. "I'm sure you two had stronger, more detailed reasons for deciding upon such a scheme," _Not really…_ "but few people will be willing to listen to them, least of all the Ministry."

"Won't Shacklebolt listen?" you asked. "I thought he liked her." You jerked your chin at me, still too angry to use my name but careful not to return to petty insults that would lose my support. Professor McGonagall sighed.

"He may, but it is a faint hope. But you must understand that the entire public has been screaming for your death for, well, years." You smiled smugly at that and she shot you a glare. "It is no laughing matter, Miss Black. An attitude like that will only inflame them against you further, if that's even possible. Now, I'm unclear on what exactly happened between you two in the Forbidden Forest." She paused and gave me a look that made it perfectly clear that I was to explain all of that later. I groaned and you laughed, but McGonagall continued as if she had heard neither of us. "However, that means we can spin it any way we want. Nobody but the pair of you knows why Miss Granger went out there to help, and Kingsley has been very eager to hear the reason. This may be just the thing that can convince him to overturn the sentence."

I had no idea what she was getting at, and from Harry's puzzled expression he didn't either, but you leaned forward with a frown to match hers. "I think I see what this is about, McGonagall. You want it to appear that the Mu – ah, _Hermione_ – has some kind of control over me. You want to tell the Ministry that if we get married, she will keep a close eye on me, to the point where it's just another prison." You slumped back onto the pile of pillows behind you, your frown deepening into a scowl. "I don't like it," you declared vehemently.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, but Harry looked unsure. "Do you think they'll care? If they wanted her in jail, they would put her there and that would be the end of it. But they don't. They want her dead, and they won't take anything less than that."

"No, Harry," I said quietly. "That's not what they want, it's what you want. They just need her out of the way and away from the public, and a wedding is cleaner than an execution. Besides, it follows their ridiculous new law to the letter. Who better to make an example of than Voldemort's best warrior?"

"Don't you dare say his name," you snarled, but I ignored that, fixing my gaze on Harry. He looked positively livid; his hatred for you ran deep and strong. Worse still, it was entirely justified, and almost everybody in the Wizarding felt the same way. It was hard to see him so angry, sitting here so eager for you to be killed, and I knew that no matter what I said or did he would be right there opposing me.

Harry took a step forward. "She deserves to die, Hermione. Look at what she's done, tell me she doesn't deserve it. You know she does. Why do you want to save her? Why does she matter? If it was you about to die, she would laugh her ass off and then walk away without a look back, you know she would. Why do you care so much?" He had placed his hands on my shoulders and bent down to my level. His eyes were shining with unshed tears, much to my surprise and dismay. I had never waned to hurt Harry with this; I had never wanted to hurt anyone. I just wanted to help her. But _why?_

"Because, whether she acts like it or not, she's still human. And I can't just stand by and watch a human die when I can save them," I told him softly. It wasn't the truth, not all of it at least, but it was the closest to the truth that I could get.

"She wouldn't do that for you! She doesn't deserve it, Hermione!" he shouted, straightening again.

"Well, good thing I'm not asking you, then, Potter," you spat furiously. Your eyes flashed with your usual ferocity as you glared at him. "Do you normally speak about people as if they aren't right in front of you? I must say, it ill becomes you, from what I had heard about you. What happened to the great and kind Harry Potter, hmm?"

"What kindness do I owe you, Lestrange?" he demanded, advancing on you until your faces were a foot apart. "You killed Sirius!"

"I only Stunned Sirius, you blind fool! That bloody veil killed him!" you retorted, regarding him haughtily.

"It's still your fault!" He was yelling now.

"Why does it fucking matter? It is done! That's what happens in a battle! You kill or you get killed!" Your voice had risen to a shout as well.

"Enough! I will not have you bickering like children! Contain yourselves!" McGonagall strode forward and pulled a fuming Harry away by the arm. "Let us get back to the matter at hand. Miss Black, I know what you were planning. You wanted to marry Miss Granger to protect yourself, then run off and do whatever you want without her." You nodded sullenly, still glowering at Harry. "That cannot happen. The Ministry may allow the marriage, and they might even be convinced not to kill you, but only if you and Miss Granger will remain together afterwards. We will need to convince them, as you said, that she can keep control over you, and keep you from hurting anybody."

You crossed your arms angrily and said nothing, but I turned to her. "How exactly are we supposed to do that, Professor? I… I don't have that kind of power, and they know it." A slight smirk crossed your face, further confirming what I had said.

To my great surprise, McGonagall smiled at that. "No, we cannot expect them to believe that you can force her to stay. However, after such a terrible war, everyone is eager to see some happiness again. We can convince them that you two _want_ to be together, that you _want_ to be married, the same as any other couple would."

You had heard enough and were shaking your head violently, your wild hair whipping all around. "No. No no no no and no. I won't do it. I can't do it. You think I can pretend to be in love with such fil – ah, someone – like her?" I rolled my eyes at how hard you had to try to keep from insulting me all the time. You looked almost physically pained by it, constantly being on the alert for degradation and correcting yourself when you so desperately wanted to say it. To be honest, I was rather impressed that you were paying so much attention, especially after watching your conversation with your sister earlier. You hardly spaced out at all, which came as quite a relief.

"I agree, Professor. I could never pull that off, really, isn't there-"

"Another way? No, there isn't," she said curtly. "If you loved each other, then you would want to stay together, and you would listen to each other. You cannot be joined in name only, as I'm aware that many Pureblood couples do, and simply live apart. The Ministry will never accept that. This is your only option, Miss Black, if you intend to live. Even if you do choose it, you will both need to put on a very convincing performance indeed. I have nothing else to say. Good day to you all, and I hope you can come to a decision." With that, she swept from the room, leaving us gaping speechlessly at her.

"Wait, Professor!" Harry hurried after her, clearly not wanting to be left alone with us for a moment longer. The heavy door swung shut behind him, and the room was dead silent aside from the sounds of Fleur's heavy breathing from where she lay asleep in her bed. After a few tense minutes you turn to me.

"What do you propose we do now, then?" you asked, breathing heavily and trying hard to keep your temper in check. With Professor McGonagall gone, any yelling would draw out Madam Pomfrey from her room in a heartbeat. I shook my head desperately.

"I don't like it anymore than you do, but I think McGonagall's right." You groaned and leaned back, tapping me sharply in the side with your foot to get me off your bed at last. I stood up, and you stretched out under the blanket.

"I need to think about this. Leave me."

"But…" You fixed me with a stern glare, leaving no room for argument. By the time I left the ward, you were asleep and that tiny voice in my head was buzzing for answers I did not have. I sighed. This marriage business was turning out to be much more work than I had anticipated.


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: This was another chapter written on receipts at work, which made for an awkward six hours with my coworkers trying to peer over my shoulder to see what I was working on... Hopefully I'll be able to get back into updating more frequently and not leave you guys hanging again. I'd also like to thank all of you who have reviewed, I love seeing what you think of the story so far. For those of you who haven't yet, please review, it takes a few moments for you but motivates me through every word. Lyrics are from United States of Eurasia/Collateral Damage by Muse.**

**-Ophelia**

_You and me fall in line_

_To be punished for unproven crimes_

_And we know that there's no one we can trust_

_Our ancient heroes, they are turning to dust_

_And these wars; they can't be won_

_Does anyone know or care how they begun?_

_They just promise to go on and on and on_

Nothing gets me worked up as much as a lengthy conversation with you, and although this one had been relatively tame it still took hours of stomping around the castle for me to cool down enough to return to the Common Room. It was loud, warm and packed as usual, and the familiar sight of all these chattering students was oddly soothing. Despite the war, or perhaps because of it, they clung stubbornly to the people they once had been. They laughed and joked as always, and still had not lost themselves to the darkness that surrounded them. It was a somewhat bittersweet realization, for I knew that I had not been nearly so fortunate myself.

Even with the safety of the castle, surrounded by those I had called friends for seven long years, I still couldn't bring myself to relax and drop my guard. I saw an enemy in every shadow, took each step preparing to break into a desperate run the next, and kept my wand within reach at all times. I never unpacked my beaded bag, just in case the time would come when I needed it again, when I needed to put my life on hold and say my last goodbyes and take off, never to be found. Harry and Ron were the same way, I knew. Both being in the thick of the action and being hunted down by Snatchers had robbed us of whatever childish innocence we once held. Even before the war, though, that innocence had been gradually wearing thin. Every adventure within the castle throughout the years had taught us that the only people we could trust was each other, and created warriors out of children who should have been more focused on their studies than on keeping themselves alive. Harry had been hit the hardest by this, having been forced to the forefront of any and all deadly trouble at Hogwarts over the last several years, but Ron and I paid the toll as well.

As I stepped further into the room, the crowd parted for me as if I had some contagious disease, as if my misfortune would leap from me onto them if they so much as made eye contact with me. It was incredibly unnerving to walk past all of these people, feeling their silent gazes upon me but refusing to meet my eyes. They were not so obvious as to turn their whole bodies away from me, but as I slowly and awkwardly passed, it was as if I was both the most and least visible person in the entire crowded room. By the time I had reached the overstuffed couches before the roaring fireplace, I felt as if I had run a marathon. Thankfully, Harry and Ron were both in our usual spots, and as I sank down gratefully beside them I felt the last lingering eyes turn away.

It was the first time I had seen Ron since he had yelled at me for my supposed lack of reaction to my impending marriage, and for a moment I was shocked to see the redness in his eyes. What on earth had he been crying about? Was it my fault somehow? "Ron, I –" The beginning of the sentence had not yet left my lips when I cut it short, remembering. _Bill_. Of course Ron was crying, his oldest brother had been brutally murdered. I felt horribly ashamed of myself, and more than a little confused. How could I possibly have forgotten that? How could I have forgotten the way his body had been torn to pieces, or the pool of blood that had steadily spread throughout the entire corridor? My trainers and the hem of my robes were still soaked through with the stuff, and yet the incident had completely cleared my mind until this moment. Was this another price that we paid on the war, to be able to see such horrors and harden our hearts against them in a matter of hours? I tried to put my hand on Ron's arm, but he flinched away. "I'm so sorry…"

He looked up as I spoke, then glared at me and crossed his arms. I stared at him, utterly bewildered, but Harry sighed. He stood up and moved to Ron's other side, serving as a barrier between us, having had far too much experience with our fighting to let us sit right next to each other. It was a perfectly innocent and neutral move, but Ron fired up at once. "Oh, sure, Harry. Go ahead and defend her, why don't you. It's not like she just betrayed us all or anything!" His ears were quickly turning as red as his eyes and hair, and his voice was slowly rising in volume. I looked around wildly to see who had heard him, but in the chaos of the Common room nobody had spared so much as a glance in his direction.

I frowned, crossing my arms as well. It was bad enough to know that the Ministry considered me and other Muggle-born girls nothing more than pawns in their games of power, bad enough to know that we would be given away like chattel and meant as an insult to the remaining Death Eaters, and bad enough to deal with your constant hostility and the unspoken threats of potential violence that lay within your every glare. What could I have done to turn Ron against me as well? "What do you mean, I betrayed you?" Despite my best efforts to keep my voice calm and cool, I could not stop from hiding just how much this hurt.

"I think you know what you did," he replied darkly, refusing to elaborate when I raised an eyebrow at him. Merlin, this boy was making me feel like a petty criminal in one of the bad crime shows my parents used to watch. I turned away quickly to hide the tears that had suddenly and unhelpfully welled up in my eyes; the last thing I needed now was to think of my parents again, off living their blissfully unaware lives in Australia. They don't know I exist, and they certainly don't know that off in distant England one desperate girl named Hermione Granger is being forced to marry a complete monster by order of the very government that ought to focus on keeping her safe. Between Harry's actions earlier today and Ron's behavior now, I was under fire from all sides, by no fault of my own. Don't these two blockheads realize just how much I've sacrificed for them, to keep fighting in this war as the odds grew weaker and weaker and to keep watching their backs at every turn? Don't they see that, even after the smoke has cleared and a winner has been declared, there is still a battle going on that I'm once again in the middle of? Can't they see that I need their help right now, not their anger?

I did my best to push down my tears, then turned back to Harry for assistance. He was trying and failing miserably to escape my notice, as if by shrinking against the back cushion of the couch I wouldn't involve him in what was shaping up to be a fierce argument. There were few things that he hated as much as being stuck in the middle of a fight between Ron and I, but when he was being such a pig-headed git there really was nothing else I could do about it.

After another moment of uneasy silence between us, punctured by the shrieks and laughter of the students socializing all around us, Ron turned his scowl upon Harry as well. He squirmed uncomfortably, darting his head from side to side to look at us both, then gave another sigh. His two best friends were at a standoff once again, and it had fallen to him to smooth things over. "Look, Hermione, all I did was tell him what happened today. You know, with McGonagall and… _her_." His face twisted momentarily in disgust, but his voice was pleading and earnest. He wanted nothing more than to diffuse the tension as soon as humanly possible, and apparently decided that I would back down before Ron would. "I – I just stuck to the facts, I swear. I tried to tell it the same way you would have if you were here."

I rather doubted that he, my dear hot-headed Harry, had actually succeeded in recounting today's events in an unbiased manner, but I loved him for trying. I could tell that it was his way of apologizing for lashing out at me this afternoon after you had so caustically broken to him the news of our loathsome engagement. I took a deep breath. "What _exactly_ did you say, then?" I didn't want to insult Harry by implying that he wasn't completely honest, but I needed to hear exactly what had been said to figure out what had offended Ron the most.

As it turned out, he was more than happy to tell me that himself. "Well, let me think, Hermione," Ron said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He put a finger on his chin in mock concentration before continuing. "He told me all about how you two found Bill." His voice trembled despite himself, and he closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself before replacing his saddened expression with a sneer. "Then he mentioned something about you getting married to Bellatrix fucking Lestrange. When were you planning to tell us that you were going out of your way to spend your life with that psychotic bitch?"

Harry leaned in, his eyes pleading. "I also told him about all the stuff McGonagall said, you know. How she didn't seem to have much against this plan. If she wants to go with it, then it can't be that bad…" Ron let out a hollow laugh behind him.

"Oh, yeah, I left that bit out. The one where you two have to pretend to love each other, right? We wouldn't want the Ministry to kill your darling Bella, now would we?" I flinched away from him as if physically struck by his sharp words. I have never, in all my years of knowing him, seen him look at me with such disgust and contempt. His eyes, normally sparkling with laughter, were burning with rage, and he was just getting started. It was the same as his episode over Draco, but with his scorn magnified a hundredfold. Harry and I stared wordlessly at him, absolutely shocked. "I wish I could have seen the look on Malfoy's face when you told him that you were ditching him for his aunt. I never knew you were into girls, Hermione. It explains a lot, like why you turned down me and Malfoy; you just wanted a nice warm cunt in your bed…"

I slapped him.

For a long moment after, Ron looked at me and I looked at Ron and Harry looked at both of us in horror. I was breathing very quickly, my hand still held up as if to defend myself, or to hit him again. Something had broken between us; even with all of our fighting before neither of us had raised a hand to the other. I stood up angrily, ignoring Harry's hand clutching at my sleeve and making a beeline for the girl's dormitories. I needed a good night's sleep, and a good hard cry before that. Ron had crossed a line tonight, and I felt overwhelmed by everything that had taken place during this whole long day.

Neville stood up as I angrily shoved past him, grabbing my arm and turning me around to face him. "Hermione, what happened? What's wrong?" His round face was full of nothing but concern for me, the friend who had saved him in Potions class for so many years.

"Nothing, Neville," I muttered, not looking him in the eye. "I'm fine." He frowned, unwilling to let anybody, let alone a friend, slip by so easily when they could clearly use a gentle touch and a word of comfort. He put his arm around my shoulder and opened his mouth to speak when Ron came up behind us. Harry was still sitting on the couch, staring into the fire looking absolutely shell-shocked.

"Don't worry about her, Neville. She's probably just a bit nervous before her big day coming up," he said in an almost cheerful voice. I wanted to turn and run from the room, but Neville's arm kept me pinned in place.

He frowned, but gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Yeah, I heard about that. Malfoy's a nasty git, we know, but better him than one of the other Death Eaters. This law is terrible, Hermione, but this whole House is completely behind you." The Common Room had fallen silent, and all of the students were nodding solemnly at Neville's words. Even worse, they were listening carefully now, all previous frivolity put aside.

Ron looked at him in mock surprise, and I silently begged him not to say anything further. When I glanced up at him, I could see a bright red handprint on his cheek, and he looked down at me with an uncharacteristic sneer. Tears welled up in my eyes, but he wasn't quite done yet. "Yeah, it would have been much better if she stuck with him, like the Ministry wanted. But, as it turns out, there's been a bit of a change of plans. Hermione here has decided that she would rather marry Bellatrix Lestrange, to keep the Ministry from killing her. It makes sense, of course, that she doesn't deserve to die. It's not like she did anything _wrong_, never hurt anybody…"

That did it. I shoved Neville's arm off of me and sprinted to the girl's dormitory, keeping my eyes to the ground to avoid seeing everyone's shocked and hurt faces. The moment the door slammed shut behind me, I dove into my bed, pulled the curtains closed, and sobbed into my pillow.


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: Bluh. It's been six weeks now, but my motivation to keep this story going has been at an all-time low. This chapter is about twice the length of my usual ones, though. I feel like none of it is coming out the way I intended, and that I can't get the characters written the way I want. I do need to do a lot of technical editing on the past chapters, but right now moving the story forward is more important. That said, it's been one year ago today since I posted the first chapter of Haunted, and I've had a lot of fun writing for you guys, and I've met a lot of great writers and great people. Thanks for all of your feedback; I always like to hear what my readers think. Lyrics are from Butterflies and Hurricanes by Muse.**

**-Ophelia**

_Your number has been called_

_Fights and battles have begun_

_Revenge will surely come_

_Your hard times are ahead_

_Best, you've got to be the best_

_You've got to change the world_

_And use this chance to be heard_

_Your time is now_

_Don't let yourself down_

_Don't let yourself go_

_Your last chance has arrived_

The sunlight seemed to jab me hard in the eyes as the curtains were swept back. I blinked blearily, trying and failing to glare at the intruder who had so caustically woken me up. Oh Merlin, they're here to attack me, aren't they? I blindly scrabbled for my wand on the bedside table, eyes squinting hopelessly against the unwelcome brightness. The intruder slid onto the foot of the bed, forcing me to sit up as they closed the curtains again. "Hermione, wake up. I need to talk to you." With the hideously bright light gone, I could plainly see that my wand was in my pocket, right where it was when I had fallen asleep last night. I pulled it out, comforted by the protection it promised. I hadn't even changed my clothes or brushed my teeth last night, literally crying myself to sleep. How... pathetic. That sort of drama had always seemed reserved for girls like Lavender and Parvati, and I had spent years trying to distance myself from any of it.

The intruder waved a hand in front of my face to get my attention. "Hermione! Didn't you hear me?" Oh, it's just Ginny. She peered anxiously at me, her hair a fiery cloud around her face. There were dark circles under her tired eyes and her freckles stood out sharply against her pale skin. I sat up, frowning, concerned to see her in such a state. If there was anybody at Hogwarts who almost constantly bubbled over with cheeriness and vitality, it was Ginny Weasley, and right now she seemed most unlike herself. "The whole House is a mess," she informed me, answering my question before it had had a chance to pass my lips. Her voice was hoarse, as if she had spent hours shouting. "They've been fighting all night, trying to decide if they should kick you out of here or not. Everyone seems torn between Ron and Neville."

"Neville? Did he take my side?" That was quite surprising, considering the not-insignificant involvement you had with the destruction of his family. I thought that he, more than anybody else, had the right to be angry with me for protecting you. Ginny smiled faintly.

"Well, you know Neville, Hermione. He knows what Bellatrix has done, but he also knows you, and he knows better than to condemn you for her crimes." She fixed me with a suddenly stern look, reminding me strongly of Mrs. Weasley. I shrunk back a bit, suddenly wary. "I agree with him, of course, but we'll need to hear your reasons for this. You're smart, Hermione, and I'm sure you didn't just blunder into something this serious."

I nodded, surprised and gratified to have the support of at least two Gryffindors, particularly two that have led the House against Snape and the Carrows all year with me, Ron and Harry away from the castle. Their opinions were very meaningful, and their steadfast support and friendship was much more than I had dared to hope for after Ron's declaration last night. "Thank you, Ginny. Just… thanks."

She blushed slightly and smiled, her eyes now warm and sparkling just like her mother's. Ah, now here's the Ginny I know. "That's what friends are for, yeah?" She reached over and playfully punched my arm, the way I had seen her do with her brothers countless times. It felt nice to be able to slow everything down and hang out with Ginny again like we always had at the Burrow; the war had torn away even my friendship with the youngest Weasley.

"So, who's on what side?" I asked, trying to sound casual, as if this matter was nothing more than a mild curiosity. Unsurprisingly, she didn't buy it, and rolled her eyes.

"Smooth, Hermione. The younger kids who never really knew you well agree with Ron, and they all think you betrayed us. Same with anybody whose family was attacked by the Death Eaters, even if it wasn't Bellatrix personally." My shoulders slumped; after such a brutal war, that was just about everybody. "There are a few of the older students who side with me and Neville, but like I said, we all want to hear your reasons for protecting her. Everyone's trying to hear out both sides, but then they get lazy, and they all just turned to Harry for an answer." She sighed. "Well, you can see their thinking, I guess. You know, they all think he's their leader and savior after killing Voldemort, so they'll side with him. But Harry didn't have anything to say, he went up to bed right after you left."

"He _what_?" I clenched my wand hard in my fist, furious. What was he playing at, refusing to say anything about this mess? How could he leave me to stew in this mess by myself? If he had vouched for me, taken just a few minutes to explain, I wouldn't have to deal with the entire school hating me. I didn't need to hear it from Ginny to know that this was how everything would play out; the Hogwarts rumor mill moved notoriously quickly and once the other students got wind of this, they would turn against me as well. "He was there, though, in the hospital wing. He heard everything, all the stuff that we said to McGonagall about the plan, he knows everything that I need to tell you. He… he…" Ginny put a hand on my arm, looking sympathetic.

"I know, Hermione, it wasn't fair at all for him to do that. If he had stuck up for you, everybody would trust you, but instead they listened to Ron and think you're selfishly protecting a murderer for your own gain. Which is ridiculous, really," she added fiercely, "because everyone knows that there's nothing at all to gain from hanging around Death Eaters. Of course there has to be more to it, it just doesn't make any sense."

I took a deep breath. "Well, a lot of this has to do with that law that the Ministry passed, Ginny. You know, that one-"

"-Where innocent Muggle-borns, who have just been hunted down and persecuted by the Ministry, are being forced to marry Death Eaters, who just spent a year torturing and killing them for fun? Yes, I was there when Kingsley told you about it, remember? It was in the Daily Prophet the other day, did you read the article?" I shook my head slowly, wary of the kind of twist the Prophet would put on the story to try to sell it to the public. There was no way a hare-brained scheme like this would be accepted, none at all. Then again… they had accepted the Muggle-born Registration Commission with no problem, hadn't they? Ginny continued, her voice gentle, clearly noticing my distress. "Well, it had some new clauses that Kingsley didn't mention before, probably stuff that he added after he announced it. There are parts that are supposed to help protect you and the other Muggle-borns, but of course, these people are criminals. Breaking laws has never stopped them from hurting people before," she admitted.

She paused, screwing up her eyes in concentration as she tried to remember what the article had said. After a moment, she seemed to remember, continuing in a solemn voice. "For example, they'll send a Ministry representative to the couple's home every month for the first five years of the marriage, where they'll talk to both of them and make sure the Muggle-born isn't hurt. If she is, the Death Eater will be convicted of domestic abuse, and they'll serve time in Azkaban just as anyone else would. If the bride dies, or mysteriously disappears, then the Death Eater will get the Dementor's Kiss." The words seemed to linger ominously in the air long after she said them, silence falling in the small dormitory. The Kiss was certainly not something to be issued lightly, and even the threat of it showed that the Ministry of Magic meant business.

At last, I cleared my throat and spoke. "But suppose something happens to the Muggle-born, like some kind of accident. Will the Death Eater get the Kiss if she dies without him doing anything to her?" As little as I wanted to defend them, I didn't want such a fate bestowed on anyone as a result of their wife falling off a broom, for example. But Ginny shook her head, her long fiery hair whipping around her face.

"They'll use Veritaserum to find out what happened, in every case. The Death Eaters are getting a great deal with this law, being kept from Azkaban just by treating one woman as a bloody human being for once," she said bitterly, and I had to agree. "But, anyway, they changed it somewhat so that you should be safer now, if not any happier. But what does this have to do with you suddenly marrying Bellatrix Lestrange? I thought you would be with Malfoy, I thought they had arranged that one as an example?"

I sighed, then pulled the curtains apart for a moment to make sure that Ginny and I were quite alone in the dormitory. The fewer people that knew the details of our plan, the better. "I'll tell you and Neville all of this at the same time, it'll be easier. But- wait, where are you going?" Ginny had thrown back the curtains suddenly and jumped out of the bed, leaving me dazzled by the sudden sunlight pouring in once more.

"Well, I have to go get Neville, don't I? We're settling this right now, Hermione, this can't just wait until later." With that, she swept out of the room, leaving me staring at the closed door in bemusement. I slid out of bed myself, snatching up my beaded handbag from the nightstand and digging around for a change of clothes. By the time Ginny reentered the room with Neville in tow, I had changed from yesterday's wrinkled outfit into a new set of robes and was dragging a brush through my stubbornly knotted hair. Ginny threw herself lazily onto my bed again, sprawling out leisurely, while Neville perched himself carefully on Lavender's bed, looking nervous and uncomfortable at being in the girl's dormitory.

I carefully put down the brush, feeling their eyes on me, and nudged Ginny until she sat up and made room for me on my own bed again. It was Neville who broke the silence, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep, steadying breath. "All right, Hermione. Ginny and I trust you, we really do, but I think we deserve to know just what's going on here. You know what that… _woman…_ is, you don't need us to remind you why the rest of the House has a problem with you marrying her. We want to hear why, and we want to hear it from you." Ginny nodded in agreement, and the pair stared at me expectantly.

I remembered what McGonagall had told us, the lie we would have to sell to Kingsley and the Ministry to get them to allow us to marry in the first place. It needed to start right now, right here with Ginny and Neville. "Well, the thing is, guys… I'm marrying Bellatrix because…" I looked down at my feet, unable to meet their searching gazes. "I love her," I mumbled. I could feel a flush spreading across my face and refused to look back up until someone spoke. The moment stretched on and on, until…

"No you don't," Ginny said bluntly. "That's complete rubbish."

I looked back up at her, frowning and trying to appear indignant. "No, its not. It's completely true. I'm marrying her because we want to be together, that's why she asked for me a few days ago, when the Order had her locked up. I promised that I would do anything I could to help her, and this is what it came down to. I'm sorry if you don't like it, but I- I've made my decision a long time ago. I can't help how I feel," I finished, crossing my arms resolutely across my chest. I felt distinctly proud of myself for spewing all of that out without thinking of a speech beforehand, as I had planned to do for when I broke the news to Kingsley. But Ginny laughed, and Neville shook his head with a grin.

"You're a terrible liar, Hermione." Neville told me. "For one thing, you have this look on your face when you talk about her, like you were looking at something nasty."

"You don't sound happy talking about spending your life with her, the woman you love _so_ much," Ginny added with a smirk. "Besides, when exactly were you able to fall in love? When did you ever meet outside of a fight?"

"What do you like best about her? The way her face lights up when she says your name? Does she even know your name?"

"Does it bother you that she's old enough to be your mother? Or that she's a woman?"

"What's your favorite thing to do together? Have you ever gone on a date? Did she send you something for Christmas?"

"All right, all right, stop it!" I held up my hands, feeling my face burning as they continued to laugh. My grand plan had fallen to pieces almost instantly, and I had no idea where to go from here. "Fine, you caught me out, I didn't mean a word of that, obviously. It was McGonagall's idea, to say all that to Kingsley as an excuse for why I'm not marrying Draco," I explained, failing to keep a note of desperation out of my voice. Neville and Ginny stopped laughing then, looking thoughtful.

"Well, it might work, but not if your acting is so bad," Neville told me. "But you haven't told us why you're trying to protect her in the first place." Ginny nodded, and I took a deep breath. How could I even begin to explain this?

"The day after the battle, McGonagall came to find me. She told me that the captured Death Eaters were being held in cells in the Room of Requirement, and that they were allowed to talk to one person on the outside. Bellatrix had asked to see me, for some reason." I left out what Draco had told me, about how she only wanted me because she felt that I would be easily manipulated. The very thought of it made my hackles rise, and Neville and Ginny didn't need to hear about it. "Well, when I got there, the Order had beaten her within an inch of her life. I- I couldn't stand it, not even seeing someone like that in such pain, I couldn't leave her like that."

"But then she ran off," Ginny said, frowning. "She escaped and you went to find her. Did you let her go? Why did you change your mind?" Neville looked between us, gaping in surprise. He hadn't heard any of this story at all.

I shook my head. "I didn't let her leave, but she took my wand. It's.. a long story, but I got knocked out. But the Order had poisoned her before, so I went to bring her back so that she didn't die. I don't know why I did it…"

"Well, because you love her, of course. McGonagall's right, that's really the only way you can sell this to the Ministry. So you saved her, but why marry her? Why keep protecting her?" Neville asked, frowning. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head, how he struggled to hear me out while battling his hatred for you. He wanted to keep me as a friend, but nobody who protected his enemies was a friend of his. I needed to make my point, and quickly.

"Bellatrix offered that I married her instead, in the hospital wing. She said that she had been raised expecting to marry someone she hated, but Draco wasn't, so it would be easier on her than on him. But she also said…" It wasn't nearly as awkward to say this to my friends as it was to say to Draco's face, but the moment was nonetheless uncomfortable. I stared down at my hands in my lap, refusing to meet their eyes. "She also said that if I marry Draco, I would be expected to have kids with him. That's… really all she needed to say. I don't want to be forced to sleep with someone, I really don't."

Ginny nodded, looking concerned but understanding, but Neville had turned bright pink and looked down at his hands as well. The last thing he wanted was to talk about anything related to sex with two girls, especially while sitting in the forbidden girl's dormitory. His discomfort somehow made me feel better about the whole situation, until I remembered what both Draco and Ron assumed after hearing what I just said. "I'm not gay, though," I added quickly, and watched as Neville's shoulders slumped in relief. He had been bracing himself to ask, I could now see, and I had spared him the embarrassment. "I won't be sleeping with Bellatrix either, that's not the point of this."

"But, you'll have to tell Kingsley otherwise," Ginny pointed out. "If you really loved her, you would want to be with her like that, in _every_ way…" Neville and I stared at her in horror. Merlin's beard, she was right. How was I supposed to pull this mad scheme off now?

"But you won't have to have a baby, Hermione," Neville said quickly. "You can't, there's not much anyone can do about that. So there's nothing to prove that you two… you know… and nothing to prove that you didn't. And it's not like someone will be watching you, they'll never find out." He crossed his arms resolutely, his face still pink.

Ginny threw up her hands in exasperation. "Oh, stop it, you two. This is exactly why we didn't believe that you love her, Hermione. You can't look so disgusted talking about this kind of stuff, or even look uncomfortable being around her. You'll need to put on a perfect act, all the time, if you want to pull this off, otherwise you won't get married and Bellatrix will be sent to Azkaban."

I shook my head. "No, not sent to jail, she'll be killed. I-" I swallowed, trying to compose myself. "I don't want her to die, not when I can save her. I wouldn't want to be responsible for it, guys, and I really couldn't explain why. But I can stop this and I will, I have to."

Neville's voice was surprisingly gentle. "She doesn't deserve to live, Hermione, she-"

I cut across him, far angrier than I had intended. "You haven't seen what I've seen of her, Neville. When she ran off, I went into the Forbidden Forest to get her, and we… talked. Nobody but us knows what it was about, and that's what McGonagall wants us to play up when talking to Kingsley."

Neville looked somewhat taken aback, but not angry. Ginny took my hand and squeezed it. "That's it, Hermione. You need to act like that, like you care about her, and the rest will come much easier." She paused, looking thoughtful, then a mischievous smile spread across her freckled face. "I've got the perfect solution. Just take a love potion right before you talk to Kingsley."

Neville looked delighted. "That's great, Ginny! Oh, how did we not come up with that before?" But I shook my head.

"Love potions are too obvious, they only create lust," I reminded them impatiently. The idea had occurred to me as well, but I discarded it after only a moment, recalling how bizarre I had behaved on a love potion a few days ago. I shuddered at the memory. _Never again_, I promised myself.

Ginny looked impatient too. "Well, of course they do, the really strong ones are too obvious. But a weaker one will just create affection," she explained. Neville looked hopeful, watching us carefully.

I shook my head again. Honestly, doesn't anybody around here _read_? "I've never seen that anywhere, Ginny. Either the potion works or it doesn't, it's impossible to determine the strength before the user actually drinks it. And you can't wait for it to wear off a bit and then have me talk to Kingsley, because it all comes off at once. Either you're over the moon about someone, or you feel the same way as you did before, and-" Ginny cut me off by clapping a hand over my mouth, fixing me with a glare.

"All right, Miss Smarty-Pants, but I didn't finish. You can make a weaker love potion, I've been working with Fred and," she paused, her eyes filling with tears as she recalled her dead brother. Neville got off Lavender's bed to hug her, her hand still over my mouth. The poor Weasleys had lost two sons in a week, and here I was planning to marry a Death Eater instead of mourning them properly. I lowered my head, ashamed of myself, but Ginny grasped my chin and forced me to look up at her again. Her brown eyes sparkled with unshed tears, but blazed with confidence.

"I've been working on one, on what they were going to market as a friendship potion. They wanted to use it for stuff like getting teammates to get along during practices and matches, or something like that, but it would work just fine for this situation too. I know it would, Hermione. We've tested it and it works, it creates fondness rather than lust. You won't have to act when you take it." I sighed, seeing no way out. Loath as I was to use any product intended for a joke shop to help arrange my wedding with a demented Death Eater, this potion was probably the only way follow McGonagall's plan, and to convince Kingsley to let me marry you rather than Draco.

Ginny moved her hand away and looked at me expectantly. "All right, I'll do it," I sighed. She smiled, and she and Neville stood up.

"Well, that's settled then," she said lightly. "We'll have to get Bellatrix to cooperate, though, we'll need her hair or something so that the potion can have you fixate on her. Then, you can just take it right before talking to Kingsley, and you won't look like you're about to throw up just thinking about her."

Neville nodded. "Glad this is all settled, then," he said, rather gruffly. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and I could see that he was still struggling to come to terms with what was happening here. The two exited the room, and I slumped back down onto the bed and groaned. A friendship potion, honestly…


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: Well, I just went through the first ten chapters to make corrections, and that was pretty rough, and not just from the typos. I kept changing verb tense even in the middle of a single sentence, it was pathetic… But now I've done my best to improve my writing and present you (finally) with a new chapter. As I've said before, I'm really struggling with this story, and to be honest I'm not at all happy with my characters. Maybe I'm not cut out for writing long stories; Haunted was all character development and little action while this story is the opposite, and now I'm stuck with this plot using bad characters. Hopefully, this chapter can work through that a bit, but it was hard to get it out. Like the last chapter, this one is nearly twice as long to make up for the long break. Lyrics are from Pet by A Perfect Circle.**

**-Ophelia**

_I'll be the one to protect you from_

_Your enemies and all your demons_

_I'll be the one to protect you from_

_A will to survive and a voice of reason_

_I'll be the one to protect you from_

_Your enemies and your choices, son_

_They're one in the same_

_I must isolate you_

_Isolate and save you from yourself_

_Swayin' to the rhythm of the new world order_

"Good evening, Bellatrix." I took a seat at your bedside, careful to keep my voice and face as neutral as possible. I wanted to get through this quickly, with as little conflict as possible. Fleur had been released from Madam Pomfrey's care the day after Bill's death, leaving you and me alone in this room. No witnesses, just the way you liked it.

"When am I getting out of here?" Well, there goes getting off to a pleasant start for once. You sat up in your bed, glaring at me as though it was entirely my fault that you were still confined to it. You had been pronounced fully healed a while ago, but Professor McGonagall had insisted that you stay here, where you would be kept safe from the Order and the rest of the school would be kept safe from you. Since you and Greyback escaped the prisons within the Room of Requirement, Kingsley had ordered the security on the remaining few Death Eaters to be further tightened, and was easily persuaded that you were more secure here. Yes, I had been the one to bring you here, but this had been a decision that I had been slowly coming to regret more and more.

"Look, you can be here or chained to that wall again, your choice," I snapped. Merlin, it never took long for me to lose my composure around you, but I think this might be a new record. Talking to Neville and Ginny took more out of me than I would have expected, and the walk through the Common Room to get down to the hospital wing felt like running the gauntlet. By the time I could summon the energy to enter the ward and deal with you again, night had fallen. Madam Pomfrey let me in only because McGonagall had told her that I would need to visit you often, otherwise she surely would have made this wait until morning. You scowled at me, then opened your mouth to retort, no doubt outraged at being shown such disrespect by a lowly Muggle-born. I cut you off, exhausted and impatient. "Or, if you don't like either of those, I can just stand aside and let the Order execute you."

To my surprise, this did not silence you as I had hoped. You leaned in, the scowl still firmly in place. "Empty threat, girl. We both know that. You won't let them kill me if you can stop it, it would be as if you killed me yourself. You're too weak," you hissed, your face inches from mine. It was most uncomfortable being this close to you, your breath washing over my face with each word, but to back away would be to back down. I held my ground, jaw clenched, and watched as your scowl twisted into a smirk. You were remembering the night you had tortured me, how you had gotten in my face and insulted me then, just as you were now. You did not need to hurt me now; the memory was in place and even though I was perfectly safe here I felt threatened by your very presence. I squirmed uncomfortably and your eyes flashed with glee. "What's the matter, Hermione?" you crooned in a sickly sweet voice. Despite my best efforts, I could not suppress a shiver at hearing my name uttered in your voice. "Not afraid, are you? It's just me, your darling fiancée…"

I wrenched myself away, positioning the chair further from the bed as you laughed maniacally. Damn you, I should have known that there was no way to win this one. You grinned cheekily at me, delighted to see me hurt and upset by mere words. I want to slap it off your face. For the first time since I saw you in the Room of Requirement, I want to see you hurt again, even worse than before. Gone was the weak and wounded witch who I had painstakingly healed; gone was the witch who sobbed and begged for death in the Forbidden Forest; gone was the witch who I had promised to help. Here in front of me, right now, was the infamous Death Eater who had terrorized the country for so long. You lay comfortably in the bed, still wearing that manic grin of yours, your eyes glinting with their usual cruelty. I hated you more than anything in the world being that moment, and I hated myself for having been so foolish and gullible as to agree to help you. Who was I kidding? You weren't worth saving; you weren't worth the slightest effort to provide protection. I had been too proud to admit that I was wrong, but I could see it plainly now.

I stood to leave, furious with myself and with you. How could I have let it get this far, let all of this happen? I should never have listened to you at all, should have walked straight out of your prison the moment I saw you. Your grin slid off your face, and I turned away from you and began walking away. "And just where do you think you're going?" you demanded imperiously. I didn't make the mistake of turning back like I always had before, but stopped walking.

"I'm leaving, Bellatrix. I've had enough of you. This whole time, I've been trying to decide if you were even worth saving. You just answered that question for me. You aren't."

"What? You can't do that! You said you would help me, you promised! Is the word of a Mudblood worth nothing, then? I should have figured." I could easily hear the sneer in your voice, but there was a certain desperation beneath it. Good. I wanted to hear you beg for your life, beg me for forgiveness, but your insufferable arrogance would never allow it. I've never wanted such subservience, nothing like that, but you seemed to bring out the very worst in me. I kept walking, ignoring your shouts of "Oathbreaker! You promised, you fucking liar!"

For a brief moment I badly wanted to turn around to see the look on that stupid proud face of yours, but pushed it back down. I needed to be calm and emotionless just then, I needed to distance myself from you while I still could. "Back in the forest, you wanted to die. You got your wish. Isn't that just what you wanted?"

I continued walking then, hoping to leave before I heard your response. The torches set in the wall sconces blew out as I walked past each empty bed, shrouding you in darkness where you sat alone behind me. I had reached the door and had a hand on the knob, ready to leave you to your fate, when you finally responded. "No." Your voice was tiny and weak, like a frightened child. Barely above a whisper, I rather doubted that you had meant for me to hear it at all, or had imagined that I could do so from across the room. The sound, the single syllable, seemed to hang in the air as I waited for you to say more. You didn't, and it wasn't hard to recognize this as a sign of defeat. Merlin, this wasn't what I wanted to hear at all; I felt so much more comfortable seeing you as the villain.

I released the doorknob and turned back to you. I couldn't make out your lonely figure in the dark, but a muttered "_Incendio_" reignited the torches. You were sitting up in bed, blankets clutched tightly around you as you gazed back at me with wide eyes. I took a deep breath, trying to control myself. I couldn't let my emotions get away from me this time; I had to remember why I had walked away and why that was the right thing to do. Wasn't it? "No… what? What are you talking about?" I asked, stepping away from the door in spite of myself. I should have left then, I had to get myself out of there, but I couldn't bring myself to turn away from you.

You looked away from me and down at your hands. "No… this isn't what I wanted. I don't want to die, Hermione Granger." The malice had left your voice when you said my name that time, everything had left it. You sounded flat and dead, just like you had in the forest. I cautiously walked towards you again, waiting for the first sign of another one of your infamous rages. It didn't come, surprisingly, and I sank back into the chair without you even looking up at me.

"You don't?" You shook your head, your lips pressed tightly together. "You wanted to in the forest, after I healed you. I had to drag you back here," I reminded you.

You closed your eyes, a pained expression crossing your face. "I wanted to be dead, yes, I did… That was… difficult. Talking about… about the Dark Lord… a-and me…" Your voice trembled and for a moment I thought you were going to cry, but to my great relief you managed to control yourself. "He wanted me to choose between him and my sisters, and I- I couldn't do it. I should have been able to choose my family, easy, but I couldn't. I thought that if I stayed with him, kept fighting for him… he might love me back." You hung your head in shame, your shoulders slumping. "He never did, and my sisters… deserved better of me. Cissy… my little baby Cissy… sh-she needed me and I didn't care. Serving him was more important. But I'm still here, and she st-still needs her big sister, she n-needs me now…"

I watched you warily, waiting for you to realize who you were confessing this to and attack me. But you had fallen into a miserable silence, your eyes still closed. _Oh god, what do I do? I'm no good at this…_ I reached out tentatively to place my hand on your arm, unwilling to touch you but equally unwilling to go without trying to offer some form of comfort. You flinched away at the slightest pressure, and I quickly withdrew my hand. "Um, listen, Bellatrix…" _What do I say? How do I stop a lunatic from having a mental breakdown? How do I convince a Death Eater that she didn't just waste her life on a megalomaniac when that's just what she did?_ "Andromeda, uh, she told me that she still cared about you, right before she came in here to, ah, yell at you." Ok, that was not the best word choice, but what else could I call it? Whatever sisterly affection she may have felt had been quickly hidden away the moment she stepped through the door and saw you.

You buried your face in your hands, but not before I saw a tear trail down your cheek. I hadn't thought it was possible for me to feel worse, but I knew that I was only upsetting you more by trying to touch you and speak to you. _But I have to try, don't I?_ Before I could try to speak again, you answered me. "Did she? Really? Did she say it again, after what… happened here? Is she- is she still mad at me?"

The honest answer would have been an emphatic 'yes', but that would clearly be of no help now. "I didn't talk to her afterwards, I haven't seen her since then," I told you, truthfully. Since the encounter here, Andromeda Tonks appears to have departed from Hogwarts, presumably to care for her orphaned infant grandson. Several minutes passed in uncomfortable silence, and I recalled what you had done as your sister shouted at you. Oh god, were you doing that again now? You had retreated into your mind and blocked her out, but I needed you to listen to me tonight. I couldn't leave this place without reaching an understanding with you, and I didn't want to stay too long. I could feel fatigue settling into me, and the numerous empty beds around the ward were looking more and more inviting as time went on. I couldn't sleep with you in the room, no number of wards would keep me safe if you were intent upon hurting me. No, we needed to finish this now. _Please, Bellatrix, come back here. Pay attention._

As though you had heard my silent plea, you finally responded. "I've destroyed my family," you reflected somberly. "I threw them all away.. for him." Yes, you did, but there was no way I would agree with this when you were in such a delicate mood. There was no knowing what would trigger another bout of violence from you, and I certainly didn't want to set you off with nobody here to calm you down.

Another awkward silence stretched between us before I found the words that might break it. "I.. I didn't mean what I said earlier. I'll help you, I promised that I would and I'll stick to it."

"Oh sure, you'll help me, right up until you lose your temper again. I know how this will go…" you sniffed. Your voice was rather muffled from you continuing to hide your face, but the derision was unmistakable.

I stared at you in disbelief. "Until I… what? No, no way, you were the one who got angry first! Don't pin this on me, I wouldn't have tried to walk out if you weren't being so insufferable!" I exclaimed.

You dropped your hands and glared at me, your face streaked with wet lines but your eyes full of anger. "I did no such thing. I merely reminded you that you promised to marry me, and that's clearly what set you off," you replied, clearly working hard to keep your voice cool and calm. You wanted me to be the first one to yell, which would prove you right, and I had no intention of letting you wind me up to that point.

I closed my eyes for a moment, taking several deep breaths before answering. "No, that wasn't it and you know it." You raised an eyebrow, and I glowered back at you. You wanted to hear me say it; you wanted to gloat about the power you still held over me, about the fear you had instilled firmly within me. "You were trying to remind me of the night... that you tortured me," I muttered.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you replied in what might have been an innocent tone, had you been able to keep a smirk from stretching across your face. "I've tortured many people, you can't imagine how hard it is to keep track of them all. Why don't you describe it to me, help me remember…" Your smirk bloomed into an eager smile, your eyes shining now with anticipation.

I wanted to scream at you, wanted to grab the pillow tucked beneath your head and press it over your face until your voice was forever silenced, wanted to hit you, anything to relieve the rage and disgust that suddenly burned inside of me. "Go to hell," I growled. "You're completely twisted, you know that? You're an evil, vile hag, and you deserve every misfortune that ever comes your way. You make me sick." I was breathing heavily by the time I finished, as though the effort of keeping from yelling and attacking you was physically straining.

You leaned closer to me, an ominously mischievous look in your eye. "Mmm, you should know, I just _love_ hearing you talk dirty to me. You'll have to do it more often when we're married," you purred. You winked exaggeratedly, then laughed as I shoved your face away in disgust. "Oh, what's wrong, dearest? Does this bother you? Would you rather try something else? This bed is big enough for the two of us, I think," you offered suggestively, pulling back the blankets and patting the mattress beside you.

"No," I huffed, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment. "This is exactly why I tried to walk away, you know."

You shifted away from me again, tilting your head in puzzlement. "Oh come on, I was just playing. I didn't do anything like that before, I just did it now to watch you squirm. I would never actually touch a filthy Mu- girl like you."

I shook my head. "That's not what I meant. I meant, your mood swings. You're out of control, and there's no way I can handle that." You frowned, and I elaborated before you could cut me off. "Come on, even you have to notice you're doing it. Just now, you were terribly upset, then you were angry, then you were… a sadistic pig, then you started hitting on me. All within fifteen minutes. I can't deal with that, I can't. I go from wanting to protect you to wanting to hurt you myself, and that has to stop."

You looked affronted and scowled at me for a solid minute before speaking. "A sadistic pig? Is that what you think of me, then?"

"You're missing the point!" I cried, throwing my hands up in frustration. "If you want my help staying alive, and you need it, then you need to control yourself."

"Don't you think I've already been doing that?" you snapped back. "I haven't hurt you again. I haven't killed you. Hell, I even stopped calling you a Mudblood, mostly. What the fuck else do you want from me?"

"Oh, congratulations then, you're beginning to treat me like a human being. Do you want some kind of prize?"

"Yes, I do. I want the prize where you keep the Order from killing or imprisoning me," you replied seriously.

I snorted derisively. "Well, it'll take much more than that. You need to convince me for good that you deserve to live and that you're worth the effort it will take to save you. If I do this, I'll have to tie my life to yours, and I won't take that lightly."

You rolled your eyes. "Clearly there was something that convinced you that, otherwise we wouldn't even be here discussing this. Why would you agree to my plan at all if you hate me so much, hmm?"

Well, if that wasn't the million-Galleon question. "I don't really know," I admitted.

You tsked at me, shaking your head. "You'll have to do better than that. How do I know your word is good if you don't even know why you gave it? You promised to help me, but why? I have my incentives, I have things to gain from it, but do you?"

I frowned. "What, are you trying to get me to back out? Can't I just not know and go with that?" I knew even without you shaking your head that this could never be an acceptable answer; I needed something solid that would keep me committed to my promise, no matter how angry you made me. "I wanted to help just because I could. I have the power to save you, and I have to use it. I won't be responsible for your death, I won't." I had thought all of this before, among many other things, but never had I spoken them aloud. They still sounded weak to me, but you were nodding thoughtfully.

"That makes sense. Your first kill is always the hardest one, the worst one to try to pull off, I kept telling Draco that. You can want someone dead with every fiber of your being, but there's a world of difference between wanting something and getting up and doing it. Killing is a habit that is much harder to get into than the innocent ever believe. And besides," you added suddenly, "the Ministry demands that you be married to someone in the army anyways. It might as well be me, if it will help me more than any of the others. Wouldn't you want to be _helpful_, my little Gryffindor?"

I wasn't so sure of all of what you had said, particularly about referring to murder as a habit, but the majority of it made sense. There does seem to be method to your madness, after all. No, I didn't want someone to die if I could save them. Yes, I did want to be helpful, but did I want to be helpful to someone like you?

"I think you missed the point," I said slowly. "I do want to help, but I don't know if I want to help _you_ of all people. I'm not asking why I should save someone, I'm asking why it has to be you. Why do you deserve to live, after all you've done?"

You stared intently at me for a long moment, long enough for me to want to wriggle away. Your coal black eyes seemed to piece me with endless intensity as you gazed unblinkingly at me, and I struggled to keep looking right back at you. At last, you blinked and I quickly turned away and looked down into my lap. "I'll never break the law again if you marry and protect me. I swear it," you finally said.

My heat shot up at once, and I saw that you were watching me without the faintest trace of a smile on your face. You had meant what you said, you looked more solemn than I had ever seen you. I blinked several times, as if you banish this illusion and reveal a lie, but there was none. Uncertainly, I extended my hand towards you. "Then shake on it. I'll marry you and you'll follow the law. You'll never torture or kill anyone ever again." You raised your chin haughtily and squared your shoulders, evidently preparing for an unpleasant experience. You reached out and took my hand, shaking it briefly before releasing me and pulling your hand back.

"Very well, we are in agreement then. Good night," you said awkwardly, trying to dismiss me in a reasonably polite manner.

"Yeah, good night," I mumbled, taking my cue and exiting the ward. Once again, the torches extinguished themselves as I passed, but you did not speak this time.


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: Why hello there, dear readers. Another month, another chapter, and another bad habit continued. Right now I'm waiting for TGCWW and Homestuck to update, so while I'm doing that I might as well give you all something for the wait as well. Hussie said to expect his update in about a week, but I have no idea when Kurai will be gracing us all with more of her writing :( Now, I would like to thank Kriszti for, as usual, motivating me to update again (read: saying nice things about my writing and kicking around ideas :D). Also, RielleB baked me some cyber cookies to feed my lifeless muse, which I really wish were real cookies but still made me smile. You should all go read their stories and send them lots of nice reviews, assuming you haven't already. Lyrics are from Planet Hell by Nightwish.**

**-Ophelia**

_Denying the lying_

_A million children fighting_

_For lives in strife_

_For hope beyond the horizon_

_A dead world_

_A dark path_

_Not even crossroads to choose from_

"I don't know, Hermione, I really don't think we can trust her on this…"

"Neville's right, you know. What's keeping her from breaking her promise? You didn't do any kind of magical bond, did you? Probably not an Unbreakable Vow, but a basic honesty charm or something?" Ginny gazed at me beseechingly, but her face fell when I shook my head slowly in response. Beside her, Neville's frown deepened. They were sitting on Lavender's bed, Neville sitting up rigidly straight while Ginny sat with her legs curled up against her chest and her head resting on her knees.

"So, you're just counting on her word on this, and that's it? It's not good enough, it really isn't."

I sighed. Almost immediately after waking up that morning, I had been cornered in the dormitory by Neville and Ginny, demanding to know where I had vanished to the previous night. From there, they had coaxed the whole story out of me and began to scrutinize every detail of our once-private discussion. The pair had been shocked to hear me recount your outrageous mood swings, but then Ginny had fallen off the bed laughing when I grudgingly described the… ah, _suggestive_... comments you had also made. Even Neville cracked a smile despite his discomfort at finding himself once more in the girl's dormitory, and despite his understandable hesitancy to find anything you say humorous. I had blushed furiously, glowering at the pair of them as Ginny crawled back up onto the bed and they both tried to contain themselves. However, it had been the last comment you had made that night which had them the most intrigued- and the most suspicious.

"I wish you had asked one of us to come with you to talk to her," Neville said earnestly.

Ginny smirked. "Yeah, she should have. After all, how can we expect her to make rational decisions when she gets so flustered over her own fiancée talking to her, perhaps reminding her of what usually happens the night _after_-"

"Oh, stop it!" I cried, my face burning as I hid it behind my hands. Neville and Ginny burst out laughing, clutching their sides as they doubled over. After a few long moments, it became quite clear that they were having too much fun to listen to me anymore. I removed my hands to glare at them, but if they noticed me, they did not acknowledge it. It was bad enough that they found my awkward embarrassment so funny the first time I told them, but to carry on with a joke at my expense… Their laughter echoed around the small dormitory, drowning out my annoyed sighs and the impatient drumming of my fingers on the bedside table.

"Look, I know I can trust her," I said loudly. Neville stopped laughing, but Ginny let a few stray giggles slip out. Perhaps my tone was sharper than I had expected, for she gave me a reproachful look after the last of her giggling. "I know I can trust her," I repeated, now that I had their attention. "If she breaks her promise, if she hurts somebody ever again, then I won't stop the Order from killing her. She won't allow that to happen."

"She only promised not to break the law, not to stop hurting people," Neville pointed out fairly.

Ginny nodded earnestly, leaning forward towards me. "Do you really think she can't find a way to hurt somebody without the Cruciatus Curse? She was – _is_ – a Death Eater, and a damn good one. C'mon, you _know_ what she's done. She knows more than one way of destroying someone." Her gaze swept almost imperceptibly down to the scar on my neck; I would not have noticed had I not been watching her so carefully. I lightly touched the scar with my fingertips, closing my eyes. Thin and white, it was my trophy from my quality time with you at your sister's mansion. Ginny didn't need to say more, I could remember well enough how you had threatened to tear me apart with that knife, how your very presence was enough of a weapon that you hardly needed your wand to instill fear. You had held me in place, but you didn't need to, my legs were weak and my mind foggy from the pain. Oh the pain, the endless burning and stabbing and slashing that existed only in my mind… How I had longed to die, I would have done anything to make it end, anything at all. If you had first asked me to marry you right then, right as you brought your wand down and the burning began and those terrible screams were ripped from my throat, if you had said that only as your wife the pain would end… I would have said yes. I would have done it, I would have done anything for you, anything to make it stop.

I opened my eyes once more with a sudden start, as if waking from a dream. Neville and Ginny stared at me, every hint of their previous laughter wiped clean off their faces. Neville looked more solemn than I had ever seen him before, his mouth set in a hard line and his jaw clenched, his face still heavily scarred with the marks from the Carrows' many punishments. Ginny looked pale and old beyond her years, her face devoid of its usual mischievous grin. I did not doubt that I hardly looked better myself, and we all stared at each other in a heavy silence, broken only by Ginny shaking her head violently. Her face seemed to be shrouded in flames as her vivid hair whipped across it, and the sudden movement seemed to jolt life back into us.

"Just answer me this, Hermione," she whispered hoarsely. "Do you think she's changed since the end of the war? Do you think she's a better person now?"

The ashamed 'No' began to roll off my tongue when I thought better of it. "Not yet," I told her with as much confidence as I could muster. She raised an eyebrow but remained silent. "I'm saving her life, and she's spending the rest of it at my side whether we like it or not. She better shape up if she knows what's good for her." I crossed my arms and sat up straight, determined to look as serious as I felt. There were few other things that roused such conviction in me; S.P.E.W., exposing Rita Skeeter, and now saving your life. I would not be responsible for your death, I simply would not.

Neville cracked a smile, the first he had worn in several long minutes. "Well said, Hermione. That bitch may be crazy but she sure isn't stupid." Ginny frowned at him, then at me.

"I think we need a second opinion," she said, sharing a meaningful look with Neville. He nodded.

"Luna, what do you think of this?" he asked, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a Galleon, which he pressed on with his thumb. It seemed to emit a faint blue glow for a split second, but before I could get a better look, it returned to normal, the gold glinting in the sunlight streaming in from the open window. He looked back at me and smiled, holding out the coin for my inspection. "It's the same as the Galleons you gave us back in the D.A., but with a few changes."

I turned the golden coin over in my fingers, peering closely at the edge, where I had originally enchanted the numbers to change. I felt more than just a touch of pride that they were still working with my idea long after the original D.A. had been forced to shut down and examined the Galleon eagerly to see how the system had been improved. I pulled out my wand, pointing it at the coin and muttering "_Specialis Revelio_". Neville and Ginny grinned at each other when the coin did not react in any way. I smiled too; it was impossible to resist a nice challenge like this, especially one that did not threaten my life if it wasn't solved quickly. It took a few more minutes of tinkering and half a dozen more spells to determine how the coin had been altered, and I looked back up at the pair in surprise. "It exchanges spoken messages as well as just changing the numbers on the edge, and you've put a lot of trouble into hiding the spells. So this is what you used against those Death Eaters all year? It's brilliant, it really is. You've made it into a telephone."

Neville frowned. "A what?"

Ginny laughed, shaking her head at him. "It's a Muggle communication device, Dad has one. He's very proud of it, but Mum doesn't know that it's there. He keeps it in his shed." I laughed too; that sounded just like Mr. Weasley.

Neville shrugged. "Oh, all right then. But you get what it does, then?" I nodded, and he sat up straighter, delighted to receive praise for a change. "Yeah, I thought it was brilliant too. It was my idea, so we could send longer messages."

Ginny also looked rather pleased with herself. Then her expression turned somber. "If someone got in trouble with the Carrows, they could activate the coin in their pocket so that everything that they said would be recorded without being noticed. Then they would send the message out and everyone would know exactly what happened. It's not the kind of thing you would _want_ to have to listen to, you know, but it was important."

"When Luna was captured by the Death Eaters, she had her coin on her. It looked useless, so it wasn't taken away with her wand. She kept in contact with us, and, well…" He took a deep breath, and I guessed what he was going to say before he said it.

"She recorded what she heard happen the night we were captured, didn't she?" I whispered. I felt like something ice cold was settling in my chest; the thought of the entire D.A. listening to my torture all the way to Hogwarts was nothing short of horrific. "But Luna wouldn't actually send that, she wouldn't do something like that," I muttered, more to myself.

Neville and Ginny exchanged meaningful glances before turning back to me. "She sent it as it was recording, so we heard everything in real time. She didn't know what would happen next, only that Harry was captured and there was no way out. She was looking for ideas, anything at all. She was desperate." Neville swallowed, looking uncomfortable. "She sent it to everyone at the same time, not just me and Ginny. We could all hear you screaming, it was terrible, we couldn't help…"

I closed my eyes. So, the whole D.A. had heard that, and now they knew that I was engaged to the woman responsible for it. No wonder they took this whole mess so personally. All was quiet for a few minutes while I contemplated the horrible image in my head; all of my friends listening intently to their coin and hearing my agonized shrieks coming from it. Did they hear you yelling too? Did they manage to make any plans, even a small, frantic suggestion? Luna's soft voice jerked me out of my musing.

I opened my eyes again and saw Neville holding up the coin, which was glowing red this time as Luna's voice issued from it. "We need to talk in person, I think. Why don't we go to the Room of Requirement?" The glow faded as I shook my head.

"The Room of Requirement was burned by Feindfyre, it won't be able to repair itself. We can't go there, I don't think we could even – " Neville held up a hand to stop me.

"The message ended, she didn't hear that. Hang on," he said, pressing down on the coin again. The blue glow reappeared and stayed this time. "Ok, say that again, Hermione."

I repeated myself, adding that we probably wouldn't even be able to enter the room. There was a pause after the message sent, then: "Oh, that's too bad. We can just go outside, then, it's a lovely day." I looked out the window; clouds had rolled in over the previously clear skies, dark and threatening rain. "We can go down to the lake, I wanted to say hello to the Merpeople anyway…" Her voice drifted off and the message ended. Ginny glanced out the window as well and sighed.

"Yeah, Luna, a beautiful day…" she grumbled. "Go get your cloaks, then, it looks like we'll be getting wet." She and Neville stood up, grimacing as their sore muscles stretched, and filed out of the dormitory.

The Common Room fell unnaturally silent as I descended the spiral staircase, every unfriendly eye fixed on me. Neville and Ginny came down behind me, cloaks in hand, and each put a hand on my shoulder. "Knock it off, you lot, nothing to see here," Ginny called loudly, her voice cutting through the awkward silence like a knife. The younger students turned away quickly, but the older ones threw me a final disgusted look before slowly returning to their previous activities.  
Harry and Ron were not in the room, but the Weasleys were. To my great surprise, they too regarded me with disgust and seemed to ignore Ginny. George's hand even inched towards his wand before Charlie put a hand on his, shaking his head slightly. Only Percy looked sympathetic, but his reunion with his family was too tenuous for him to make waves just yet. "Come on," Ginny muttered to me, casting a scathing look to her siblings before we made our way through the Common Room.

I turned to her as soon as the Fat Lady swung shut behind us. "Ginny, I don't want to cause trouble with your family, there's already too much going on with you," I told her sadly. She shook her head angrily, her jaw set and her expression stubborn. Her brown eyes blazed with fury.

"You're like a sister to me, Hermione. I won't abandon you, no matter what you choose. They just need to deal with that, because I'm not backing down."

Her words touched me; it felt so good to have a friend like her. Of course I loved Harry and Ron, those thick and reckless idiots, but I needed a female friend every once in a while, someone who would never judge me when I try to talk about feelings or anything besides Quidditch. I knew that Ginny felt the same way, growing up with so many brothers, and we had always relished our summers together, just us girls for once. I took her hand and squeezed it. "Thank you, Gin. That means a lot to me." She nodded tersely and we continued down the corridor. "Look, I know we have a lot to talk about, and we haven't said much about anything but the Ministry's law. If you need to talk, like about Fred and Bill, I'm always here for you."

"Me too," Neville added, moving to stand on her other side and take her other hand. "I don't have any siblings to lose, but I know how it must feel."

Ginny took a deep breath, then glanced sideways at me. "Mum and Dad don't want you at the funeral, Hermione," she said quietly.

The words hit me like a physical blow, forcing me to stop in my tracks. "They… what?"

She turned to me, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. "They think you've betrayed us, they believe Ron. They – they told me that they don't want you at the f-funeral. They're holding it next week, at Shell Cottage, where you guys put Dobby. We don't have a family p-plot. We're old enough that we should, but we couldn't a-afford it. Fleur thinks it's a very pretty spot for them to be b-buried." Tears began to fall despite herself and Neville wrapped an arm comfortingly around her shoulder.

I had to agree with Fleur; Dobby's grave was beautiful, overlooking the sea with a riot of spring flowers in bloom over him. Nature was rapidly reclaiming the spot, which was as peaceful a place as any to rest.

I told Ginny this, for she had not gone to see Dobby's grave yet. She nodded gratefully, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Neville broke the silence after a moment. "Has there been any luck in capturing Greyback yet?" Her face darkened.

"No leads yet," she said grimly. "McGonagall managed to convince Fleur not to go after him herself, though, which she said took ages. You know how she is, all feisty, she didn't want to give up the fight. None of us did, but McGonagall talked us down too. Only trained Aurors are out looking for him."

She began walking again, as though agitated at being kept from a perfectly good fight. Neville and I hurried to keep up as we made our way down the moving staircases. The inhabitants of the paintings did not whisper to themselves as we passed by, and I was grateful that Ron's rumors had not yet reached them. "Funny thing is," she continued, "all the other Death Eaters were riled up that he escaped. They don't seem to think much of him. Everyone who hadn't worked directly under him offered to help the Ministry track down and kill him. Even the Malfoys were all for it, and Bellatrix was furious that she couldn't fight. Seems like he didn't make many friends in the war, even among you-Know-Who's men."

By the time she had finished, we reached the Entrance Hall, which was completely empty. Ginny strode forward and pulled open the doors, then groaned. Rain was coming down in thick sheets, and there was not a trace of sunlight. As we squinted into the gloomy storm, we could make out a lone figure bouncing down the sloping grounds. It could only be Luna; nobody else would be skipping in such weather. Beside me, Neville looked mildly annoyed and Ginny looked amused. "Honestly, Luna…" she muttered, then we stepped out into the downpour.


	22. Haitus Details

**AN: All right, friends. As I've told you several times, I'm not happy with this story, and now I'm going to stop complaining and tidy it up. Before I've just gritted my teeth and kept moving forward, but all that did was make me even less satisfied and made you all wait longer and longer for updates because I was too lazy to go back and fix things. So that's what I'm doing now; I'm going back and changing the story until I'm happy with it, then I'll continue moving forward. I'm pretty satisfied with the style of writing itself, but the characters desperately need a revamp, and the plot could also use some tweaking to keep things moving.**

**What I need to do with the characters: I need to make everyone more consistent, if nothing else. I do need to get Hermione and Bellatrix more in character, but the others are all right. My main problem is that Hermione is too naive and impulsive and Bellatrix is too weak. Hermione is nothing if not smart, but I haven't shown it at all, instead trying to make her compassionate to a fault, which really suits Harry better. It's taken far too long to give her a real reason to help Bellatrix when really she should have justified her actions fully before doing anything. Next, I wanted to show Bellatrix breaking down after her beloved master died, but she's just too chaotic. Her mood swings are even out of my control, and she cries too easily, which makes it far less powerful than it should have been if she just was seen crying once, as I intended. So, I need to go back and change these two idiots until I'm happy working with them again.**

**What I need to do with the plot: I mostly just need to give the whole story a sense of urgency. The past several chapters have been all dialogue, and there's no rush. The castle is in ruins, Death Eaters are still waiting in chains to hear their fate, there are two Weasleys to be buried, and Bellatrix has a death sentence over her head. Yet everyone is just sitting around talking to Hermione, and not doing much else. This should be simple: I'll just have the Ministry set a date for the wedding when Kingsley tells Hermione about it. That way she has to get things moving by that day. Really, the only action I had was killing Bill, and between this story and The Hard Way I think I just keep spontaneously killing people off because I like to describe the corpses, which doesn't really help the plot much. So, things need to happen faster.**

**Writing all of this down was just as much to let you know what I plan to do as it was to help me figure out what I plan to do. If I want to get my act together, it will take a while, and I can't post anything until all of it is done. Then I'll just upload the heavily edited chapters, post any new ones, and we can all get back to posting normally, and hopefully more frequently. What I need from you, readers, is just some patience. You've all been great putting up with me so far, and while I won't be posting on this story for a while, I do have other works in progress (namely, a Izumi/Lust story for Fullmetal Alchemist) and I'm not doing any overhauls on the other things that I already have up. For the few of you who liked The Kinslayer, I do plan to do a second chapter from Bellatrix's POV, but I have no idea when I'll be in the same weird mood to write it. That's all the news I have for you, so now I have some work to do. I hope you all stick around to see it when its done.**

**-Ophelia**

**Edit: 12-01-12 Hey everyone, I know its been ages since I posted this but even after all this time I've only finished the first ten chapters, and chapter eleven is where I think things start to go wrong. I have a lot of work done but still have 50 pages left to edit, and on top of reworking the characters I have been rewriting everything in third person instead of first and second, which I only did in the first place because I'm too lazy to deal with pronouns in femslash smut scenes. I hate to do this but I still need to ask for your patience, and hope that I can get more work on this done, especially with the holiday break coming up. I have not been so diligent on working while I was getting used to being at college, but my goal is to get this done by Christmas.**


End file.
